


Incense and Cinnamon

by MargaretKire



Series: The Cage of Your Ivory Ribs [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Art by elviscl, Costumes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kylo has his scars, M/M, Misunderstandings, Panic Attacks, Pining, Possessive Behavior, Protective Hux, Protective Kylo Ren, Protectiveness, Ren Faire AU, Renaissance Faires, Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Sword Fighting, Touch-Starved, attempted assault (not done by any main characters), clueless Kylo, corsets, themes of body dysmorphic disorder/eating disorder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-07-29 04:28:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7670071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MargaretKire/pseuds/MargaretKire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kylo fights with a broadsword at ren faires after becoming disfigured as a teenager. He's able to hide his face and stay in his comfort zone until a troupe of actors, along with one very slender Armitage Hux, start to preform at the same festival. </p><p>or: Kylo is a knight and Hux is an elf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this one came about from an unhealthy obsession with ren faires and the thought that Kylo would be amazing fighting with a broadsword.
> 
> Plus, I just really needed Hux in a corset.
> 
> Dedicated to Blakesparkle, my corset obsessed friend.
> 
> A playlist I have spent way too much time making, but love like my own child: [Incense and Cinnamon Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mothdustmouth/playlist/0VE7JmEeoYkHBUai4b5CAl).

Kylo brought the sword down with a fierce battle cry, his opponent stumbling backward as the blade bounced off her leather-clad shield. The tall blonde woman rallied quickly, bringing her shiny battle axe up and deflecting another blow before knocking the blade out of Kylo’s hands and sweeping his legs out from under him. She made a big show of stepping on his chest as she drove the axe into his stomach. He gave a final death spasm, much to the delight of the bloodthirsty kids in the front row.

The show ended with Mitaka striding intently around the audience asking for donations to be tossed into his upturned cap as Phasma helped Kylo to his feet. He threw his black cloak over his shoulder, adjusted his black helmet, and posed for pictures with the tiny, demented fiends that had laughed at his gory death, their little faces beaming as their dad snapped photos with his phone. He and Phasma signed each of their programs, and the father even had the decency to buy some of their merchandise.

Kylo slipped off his helmet after the photos, letting his hair hang over the right side of his face. Phasma and Mitaka smiled at the departing crowd ("leave them with a good feeling and they’re much more likely to catch the show again and buy things," Phasma had said, ignoring Kylo's grimace). They collected their props and stumbled behind the stage.

“Drink?” asked Phasma, carefully retouching her Celtic battle-makeup with the help of a tiny compact. She threaded a few strands of platinum hair back up into her warrior mohawk, twisting them around to secure them in the mass of dreads and silky tresses that made up her ever evolving look.

“Yes,” replied Kylo. He pulled his thick hair back into a ponytail with an elastic before tying a bit of hide lacing over the top to look more “authentic,” some of his heavy locks still tumbling over his face in front to help hide his deep scars. He wedged his helmet under his arm - in case he was asked for pictures - and adjusted the balance of the broadsword at his hip.

The two of them left Mitaka to store the props and count the earnings (while shooting them both hopeful glances to be included which they ignored), while they sauntered over to one of the pubs. They waited in a short line to order their drinks - stout for Kylo and mead for Phasma - and then they found a more or less comfortable seat at a log table. Kylo’s booted feet scuffled in the dirt and pine needles below the bench as he sipped his brew and cast an eye over the first day of the autumn faire.

He liked inventing games to play during faire weekends, and this time it was Spot the John Snows. He had devised a rating system, a simple 0-10 scale, that he used to judge the various _Game of Thrones_ costumes. He had only ever seen one 10, and Phasma still had a hard time convincing him that it was not the actual actor from the show playing an elaborate prank. _("It could happen." "Shut up, Kylo.")_

Phasma held still as a bee droned past her head, momentarily interested in her plastic cup of mead, before buzzing away over countless costumed visitors. Sure that the bee was in fact gone, Phasma leaned forward, her armored breastplate striking the edge of the table.

“I think I’ve convinced Mitaka that Plutt has a thing for him,” she whispered conspiratorially, her pale eyebrows rising with glee. Kylo thought that the savage stripes of blue makeup across her face suited her.

“I’d actually be more surprised if he didn’t,” Kylo said, trying to dampen her enthusiasm, just because he felt like it.

“True,” Phasma said, “but he’s all about Rey at the moment. That’s actually how I started working on Mitaka. I kept saying things like, _‘Plutt sure likes little brunettes,’_ and _‘The smaller the better for old Plutt.’_ You should see him every time Plutt stops by to do maintenance on the stage. Mitaka tries to hide, like actually, physically hide from him. I swear I saw him stand behind a tapestry once.”

“You are pure evil,” Kylo said, laughing. Her grin turned feral and she sipped her mead with more self confidence than any one person had a right to posses. Kylo smirked a bit. It would be nice to just be happy with who you are.

Kylo snorted at his near brush with self-reflection. He refused to ponder any deeper. Instead, he turned his attention back to the meandering crowds, trying to guess at the percentage of costumed versus non-costumed visitors. The amount of people who at least partially dressed up had been increasing since his first days coming to the faires. This location had gained in popularity. It was five times the size it was back when Kylo had been a teenager.

“I smell the cinnamon doughnut stand,” Phasma said, a look of bliss spreading over her face. She always loved getting her first sugar-fix of the season. Kylo grunted and stood without being asked. He stood in line for ten minutes and got Phasma three orders of the round fried dough things she loved, then grabbed a stack of napkins and headed back to their table. Phasma dug in, offering him a few as a thank you.

Kylo ate one slowly, gazing off into the hazy pattern made by all the bright fabric, licking sugar and cinnamon off his lips. He let himself slump into the table, the warm sun and murmuring voices around them, plus the influence of the beer, helped him slip into an almost meditative state. He listened half consciously to Phasma sucking the sugar off her fingers, to the pickle seller hollering down the lane, to the wind chimes in the nearby shop gently clanging…

Phasma’s large hand descending on his bicep from across the table made him startle out of his brief reverie. She gripped his arm and shook it, clearly excited about something. Her eyes caught his and then slid over to the side, leading his gaze to a troupe of Elves. Not fairies, not sprites, but full-on Tolkien Elves. Kylo’s jaw dropped open for a brief second.

“Are those-” Kylo looked back at Phasma who was grinning so wide he thought it must hurt.

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. “Oh my god, Kylo. Everything I heard about them is true.”

Kylo looked back at the slowly advancing group that had stepped straight out of Middle-earth. There were seven of them, each tall and thin. It was hard to tell their genders because they were all somewhat androgynous looking, but he guessed that there were four women and three men. They flowed along with a haughty grace that looked entirely real, their gaze traveling through and over anyone near them, as if they were caught in some ethereal plane of existence not open to mortals.

“Wow,” said Kylo.

“I know, right?” Phasma breathed in awe. “Are they all wearing corsets?” She looked again. “Oh, they _are._ Jesus, Kylo, look at the one in the middle. He’s the tallest but his waist is the tiniest.” They both stared as the group paused for photos, each of the Elves taking a slightly different posture in a well rehearsed pose. “Let’s go meet them.” Phasma grabbed the empty paper in front of her, greasy from her donuts, and tossed it into the trash bin.

Kylo reluctantly followed. He slipped the helmet over his head and decided that he would just play the brooding knight to Phasma’s friendly warrior. He walked behind her like a bodyguard, letting her do all the work of socializing.

“Hi,” she greeted the first Elf, a woman wearing a dark and extremely realistic wig, “I’m Phasma and this is Kylo. We’re performers.” The Elf broke character enough to smile and shake hands.

“Delighted to meet you,” she answered with an English accent. Kylo couldn’t tell if it was put on or if it was authentic. “We are performers too, though this is our first faire in the States.”

The two women slipped into conversation easily and Kylo once again wondered how Phasma just _did_ that. How she could make someone so at ease with her within moments, as intimidating as she was at 6’5” and in full battle armor and makeup. She looked like she could snap any one of the Elves in half easily.

The Elf laughed at something Phasma had said and one of the other performers turned away from a visitor that had been trying to chat with him. His head snapped in the laughing woman’s direction and he caught her eyes with such a look of disdain that she sobered instantly. The Elven mask of etherealness dropped back over her features and she quietly promised to come find Phasma again after they were out of character. Phasma nodded and then watched the troupe of graceful beings walk slowly down the dirt lane.

She turned and gave Kylo another look and mouthed “wow” silently. Kylo headed back for the stage, and Phasma strode beside him. In between being stopped for photos, she laid out the gossip she had gathered about the Elven troupe of actors. They were new to the faire, as the dark haired woman (Kylo hadn’t caught her name) had said. Their leader was the son of a renowned Shakespearean actor named Brendol Hux. Kylo had recognized the name. Brendol Hux was one of those British guys that got hired to do a ton of voice acting and narration, and to show up in cameos in movies as the “wise, old, sophisticated Englishman.” Kylo would not admit to being impressed.

“Was that the snooty one?” he asked. He thought back to the death glare the redheaded Elf had given when Phasma’s new friend had broken character by laughing. Phasma nodded.

“Tiny-waisted acting Nazi,” she confirmed. “Seriously, Kylo, did you see how thin he was? How tight his corset was tied?”

“You have a corset fetish,” Kylo pointed out.

“So, you’re saying you didn’t notice him? A tall, thin, pretty redhead, and you didn’t notice him?”

“His hair is a wig, Phas,” Kylo said, kicking at some acorns in the path. “And he was wearing makeup. He probably doesn’t look anything like that out of costume.”

“And if he did…?” Phasma leered at him and nudged him with an elbow. They had made it back to the stage and were hefting the bags of equipment Mitaka had packed so they could move to the next performance area in a different section of the faire. Again they both ignored Mitaka as they lifted the heaviest gear, leaving just one light tote for their tiny friend.

“Still wouldn’t be interested,” Kylo answered with a grunt, a satchel of armor and weapons settling across his back as they began to walk again. “He seems like a real stuck-up asshole.”

“Just your type,” Phasma said much too quickly. Kylo ignored her.

“Besides, he has a famous dad, so you know he has issues.”

“Oh, okay, you wanna talk about issues?” Phasma asked, turning her wide blue eyes on him. Kylo knew that look. He was in trouble.

“No, no, I mean, like, he will either think he’s amazing by right of birth, or have an inferiority complex,” Kylo sighed, shifting under the straps of the bags. He was sweating pretty bad under all the armor and his hands were slippery around the bag handles.

“Says a man with experience in both,” Phasma deadpanned.

“My father wasn’t a Shakespearean actor,” Kylo pointed out.

“I think my point still stands.”

They trudged on in silence until they reached the new stage, thankfully shaded by large trees, and set their gear down with a thunk in the back. Kylo collapsed into the stubby grass and powdery dirt, leaning back against the wooden wall. Phasma joined him with water bottles. They both gulped one down and closed their eyes for a bit.

“We still have another half hour?” Phasma asked Mitaka, who jumped and spun in her direction, pulling out his phone to check the time.

“F-forty minutes,” he reported back. Phasma nodded and shut her eyes again.

“Why are they here, anyway?” Kylo asked after a moment. “Shouldn’t they be on stage somewhere, a whole troupe like that? It’s weird. They are way too professional for a ren faire.”

“Thanks a lot,” Phasma said in mock offense. Kylo cracked a smile at her, squinting over at her frowning face. “I have no idea,” she said, answering his original question. “You can ask them tonight, I guess.”

“There’s no way they are staying here,” Kylo said. “That redhead looks like he never sleeps anywhere other than five-star hotels.”

Phasma gave a tired chuckle. “I knew you would like him.”

“Stop, listen, I-”

“They _are_ staying here,” Phasma interrupted. “My new Elf friend told me before we were so rudely interrupted by the Icy Green Stare of Death. We’ll go find them tonight, okay? I have to see them out of costume. They all look like models.”

“You’ll be disappointed,” Kylo grumbled.

They rested and drank more water before the next show, each of them clambering off to the porta-potties to take care of full bladders before getting hit with lethal weapons for twenty minutes. As Kylo maneuvered his tunic and scabbard out of the way so he could reach into his pants and free himself enough to pee, he wondered vaguely how someone in flowing robes and a pinched corset managed in a porta-john. He smiled at the image of Brendol Hux’s son trapped and cursing in the tiny space, trying not to touch any surfaces.

Maybe he would go looking for the troupe with Phasma after all, as long as it was after dark. It was too bad he couldn’t just wear his helmet all the time. He felt like he wouldn’t mind sitting around with a bunch of supermodels if they couldn’t see his face. He hated it when beautiful people saw his scars.

Kylo tried to concentrate on the rise and fall of Phasma's axe during the next show, grunting at the force of the blows, and being careful not to swing his broadsword with too much force into her small shield. Time ceased to exist, just the stretch and pull of muscle in the familiar pattern of their act, until once again he was lying dead on the stage, Mitaka walking to and fro through the crowd, hat in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( Pinterest board [here](https://www.pinterest.com/mothdustmouth/incense-and-cinnamon/).)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for lorkans_heart. Thank you so much for all your help with my pesky ren faire related questions!
> 
> I just wanted to let you guys know that I am not writing about a specific faire, but rather smooshing together a bunch of different ones and then completely making up the rest. :)

Kylo was thankful for the cooler autumn nights. While they weren’t anywhere near cold yet, they afforded him the excuse of wearing hoodies around the camp after he was out of costume. The sweatshirt he pulled on for the evening was lightweight cotton, and it felt more like a t-shirt than a sweater. He let his hair down to flop over the right side of his face, and then pulled the soft black hood up over his head. It didn’t completely hide the scars, but it camouflaged the worst of them.

He wandered down to the field that he normally used for practicing his swordplay, even though he didn’t have his weapons with him, just to see who else was there. Rey was sitting astride one of the jousting horses, getting him to lift his feet in a practiced little prance. Kylo could hear her cooing to the huge beast, his grey-dappled flanks quivering as he thunked his hooves down in a set pattern. Kylo suspected that Rey had started using this field instead of the one closer to the stables because it was too far for Plutt to make the walk every day. She gave him a small wave, recognizing his tall, hooded shape, and he raised a hand in return.

There were a few other performers running through their routines or just lolling on the grass, relaxing. One woman was running laps around the edge of the field. Kylo watched them for a few minutes before turning back toward his camp to locate Phasma. It was just getting dark when he found her, still looking like a warrior even in a boatneck top and stretch pants. Her riotous hair fell to one side and cascaded over her shoulder. The Celtic makeup was gone, replaced with black eyeliner.

“Ready to go look for supermodel Elves?” she asked. Kylo sighed but nodded. Phasma was the one who liked making new friends. Kylo preferred keeping silent and glaring at people. 

They wandered through the various campgrounds, knowing them by heart after so many years of working the faire. They traveled to other festivals, but this one always felt like home to Kylo. It was the largest, and the campground really wasn’t too bad. It even had a showering facility, for which everyone who stayed more than a few days was extremely grateful.

Phasma made her way through small groups of people and weaved past the occasional campfire. Kylo looked up at the night sky as the stars came out. He watched the constellations wink into life and sighed, relieved to be hidden by the darkness.

He could smell food cooking and, here and there, a wisp of sickly sweet smoke. There were figures in the semi-dark, drifting past on their way to another camp. A murmur of voices, of music playing from one of the tents, the soft _chruck chruck_ of someone whittling. Kylo slipped into that half awake state, the one that felt like he was watching a film of his life rather than living it. Everything felt both muted and more alive, blended up in a warm, ultra-reality. It was a feeling he was used to, numb and safe.

Beside him, Phasma made a delighted noise. The answering squeal was higher-pitched than Phasma’s, and it drifted over to them quickly followed by a slender, dark haired woman. They came together like old friends, grabbing each other’s hands and talking at the same time. Kylo looked on in awe. “I found you!” Phasma said.

“I’m so glad you’re here!” the other woman replied. Kylo shuffled and watched the two smiling at one another. “I’m _so_ sorry about earlier. The boss is strict about breaking character. I got chewed out royally when we got back to camp.”

The woman ( _Rebecca,_ Phasma whispered back to him), led them over to her campfire, which was surrounded by a circle of brand-new tents. Kylo couldn’t see them too well in the dark, but he could tell they were top-of-the-line. The fresh, chemical-laden scent of them filled the small alcove.

Four out of the seven Elves were already gathered there, sitting in lawn chairs and on logs, sipping out of beer bottles and digging into bags of snacks. Once Rebecca had joined the group again, there were only two troupe members left unaccounted for. Even in the unreliable flicker of campfire light, Kylo could tell that the redheaded Elf was not among them.

They were offered seats and beer, both of which they accepted, and the woman on Kylo’s left offered him her bag of sour cream and cheddar potato chips. He shook his head with an attempt at a smile and watched as she caught sight of the part of his scar that started just above his eyebrow and continued on right below his eye socket before vanishing under the cover of his thick hair and black hood. Her eyes widened in surprise as she pulled back the proffered bag and turned hastily back to the fire.

Kylo turned just in time to hear Phasma asking nosy questions about the troupe. “So where’s the master of this merry band?” she laughed, already joking around with Rebecca. Why wasn’t _he_ like that? Why hadn’t Phasma’s charm rubbed off on him? They’d been friends forever. He would have thought that by now she would have had _some_ sort of effect on his social skills.

Rebecca looked around at her ring of friends. “You’ll note that we disappear in pairs,” she said, waggling her eyebrows and then laughing at Phasma’s expression.

“Um…” Phasma began, but thankfully Rebecca cut her off.

“It’s the corsets,” Rebecca explained. She had Phasma’s full attention. “They’re very old-school. Hux wanted everything as authentic as possible, so we don’t have the nice ones that can be unbuckled in the front. Oh no. That would have been too easy. Hux got the ones that require a partner to get in and out of. So we have to help each other every day.” Rebecca rolled her eyes and took a swig of beer. Kylo could sense Phasma wanting to say that if the Elves ever needed any help, she would be happy to lend a hand.

“That’s pretty extreme,” Phasma commented instead.

Rebecca smiled and nodded. “That sort of sums Hux up. Authentic and extreme.” Kylo shifted in his folding chair and took a sip of beer. He started to nervously peel at the label with his thumbnail. It was good beer, the sort of thing he would buy for himself and Phasma for a special occasion, though usually they drank the cheap stuff or on-sale bargain wine. Whatever got the job done.

Kylo started taking note of the faces around him. For the most part, he remembered nothing about what they had looked like in their costumes. Except for Hux and Rebecca, he hadn’t noticed any of them individually, other than that they had looked like they were from a movie set. Out of costume they were still a group of good-looking people, though the ethereal quality had clearly been derived from expertly applied makeup. Without the wigs and the costumes, they looked more like attractive grad students than Elves.

The only warning Kylo got that the other two had arrived was Rebecca stopping dead in the middle of a story about the troupe getting in trouble in London while they were doing a run-through in Hyde Park.  A man stepped into the circle of firelight, and there could be no mistaking who he was.

His wig was gone, but the color remained, his red hair styled to the side and then back, still damp from the shower. He was wearing a black t-shirt and dark pants, with a dark cardigan pulled over his shoulders. His face had been washed of its makeup but out of all of them, Hux was the only one who still retained an otherworldly appearance. Despite the modern clothes, he looked like he could be Oberon on his way to play with the hearts of mortal men.

He hid a sneer at seeing that Rebecca had already crashed their party with new acquaintances, but he greeted them each politely with a nod before getting a bottle of water out of the cooler and sitting down to eat a bag of grapes, ignoring the chips and caramel corn circling around him. He sat with one leg crossed over the other, his sandal dropping off his long, slender foot, his pale skin gleaming faintly gold in the firelight.

Kylo kept his hood low and watched him though his camouflaging fall of hair. He stared as Hux got out his phone and, instead of texting, seemed to be scrolling through and reading something, stopping now and again to swipe his fingers and highlight sections. Hux ignored everyone as they talked and laughed around him. He and Kylo were the only two that were silent. Phasma did her best at bringing Kylo into the conversation, and even got him laughing about one of their recent performance mishaps. Kylo’s eyes flicked over to Hux and caught him watching in sudden interest, before looking back at his phone. Kylo noticed after that, any time he said anything or laughed (which was pretty rare compared to the unending laughter of Phasma and Rebecca), Hux’s eyes were drawn to him, only to drop when Kylo met his gaze.

Kylo was used to people trying to sneak looks at him. His face was an oddity; the scars drew the eye. It wasn’t like he was normal looking to begin with, and now he had no hope of ever being inconspicuous with his combination of height, swordsman's build, and scars. He felt himself getting warm under Hux’s continued glances, a feeling of embarrassment and shame rolling in his belly as he tried to get deeper into the shadows of his hood. He eventually dropped out of conversation altogether. Hux stopped looking up so frequently.

Kylo only stayed another few minutes before he said a rough _"Thanks,"_ to Rebecca and headed back over to the other side of the camp. Phasma was used to him abruptly leaving social gatherings and didn’t bat an eye. He didn’t look at Hux.

It was dark away from the ring of firelight but his eyes adjusted quickly and soon he was striding along at full pace by light of the moon. He went back to the practice field. All the people were gone, the grass stretching away black and quiet in the darkness. He heaved a sigh and shook back his hood and tucked his hair behind his ears. The wind felt good on his naked face as he stared up at the night sky and slowly picked out constellations, mentally saying each of their names.

He returned to his tent after a walk around the field. He swigged some Listerine as a substitute for brushing his teeth in the shower and toilet facilities, located back where Hux and company were camped. Kylo never chose those camping spots because, although they were convenient for the running water and toilets, everyone passed right by on their way to and from the building. He preferred privacy, even though it came along with inconvenience.

Kylo crawled inside his small tent, just barely big enough to contain his long body, and curled up on top of his sleeping bag. He breathed in the slightly musty scent of the tent, paired with a whiff of laundry detergent from his bedding, and squeezed his eyes shut. He hoped someday these smells would only remind him of his faire work and not of camping trips with his family as a child. So far, though, every time he lay down over the past decade in this tent, all he could think about was his mother by the campfire making coffee in the morning, his father whistling as he walked back from the river and- _No._ He wouldn’t think about that. He wouldn’t think about his family. That was all in the past.

Knowing Phasma wouldn’t be back for several hours now that she had found people more fun than him to hang out with, Kylo wrapped up in the grey military blanket he’d gotten from his uncle as a teenager, and fell asleep, resolutely thinking of nothing.

 

* * *

 

He awoke to the dim light of predawn and the smell of wet earth and grass. The trees dripped a few heavy drops down onto the tent roof above his head, but by the time he stumbled out to the side of the campfire it had stopped raining and most of the clouds had blown over, revealing a hazy blue sky. He got the campfire going and filled a battered coffee pot with water, setting it over the small flame before taking himself to the closest outhouse. It may not have had a flushing toilet, but it wasn’t any worse than the porta-johns used for the faire visitors, and it was a lot larger, so at least he didn't clunk his elbows into the sides.

When he got back, the water had come to a boil and he poured it over coffee grounds in an industrial strength press pot. He listened at the flap of Phasma’s tent for a moment and could hear her gentle snoring, so he let her sleep while he drank coffee and read a book, watching the small fire burn down.

Mitaka arrived at 10:30 to help set up for the first performance at 11. Phasma rolled out of her tent with just enough time to pull on her armor and do her blue patterned makeup, and then they were hauling their gear over to a wooden stage by the jousting field. They had a low turnout for the performance, but the audience was friendly enough and laughed in the places they were supposed to, so that was alright. No merchandise sold, though, and only a few bucks in the hat.

They had until the afternoon for their next performance, one at a larger stage and a better time. It was usually easier after lunchtime, when the visitors were beginning to get boozed up and more free with their wallets. Until then, Kylo walked around killing time, while Phasma wandered off to make friends and actually talk to people.

He recognized several of the lane performers, and nodded to them. He even remembered a few names, though he never talked to any of them without Phasma. He leaned against a store post, eating french fries and watching people walk by. Several women were posing with a performer dressed as a tree creature, decked out in full foliage and walking on leg and arm stilts. A little further off, a golden dragon with long, twisted horns and startling blue eyes was enthralling a small girl who had stopped dead in her tracks to stare. The dragon mask was oddly beautiful, character emanating from its carefully crafted features. It looked alive. He watched the mother snap a picture of the dragon kneeling beside the little girl, who was now smiling like she was completely in love, gazing up at the golden face.

Kylo stood there for awhile longer, incense smoke from the stall nearby curling around him. His eyes restlessly roamed over the dirt lanes. It wasn’t until he saw a flash of red hair - which turned out _not_ to belong to an Elf - that he realized he was looking for Hux. As soon as he was aware of what he was doing, he straightened up and, tossing the empty cardboard dish away, walked toward the next performance stage.

The show was going well right up until the very last battle between Kylo’s black knight and Phasma’s Celtic warrior. They were doing a new set, showier than last year’s, that required him to do several fast sword twirls and spins while twisting backwards, ending in a fancy block of Phasma’s battle axe. He got through the sequence and was able to get his sword to the right spot, but he fumbled his grip at the last moment as he came out of the back-bend and into the killing stroke. He recovered and finished the show with the usual flourish and said the right lines, getting a pretty decent rise out of the crowd.

He held his right hand under his dark cloak as he posed for pictures, squeezing back the slow flow of blood he could feel there, his thumb split open on his own sword near the pommel. They kept their weapons dull for performances, but this particular sword was slightly sharp because he used it for a cutting trick, slashing through the leather strap that held Phasma’s shield so that it could fall dramatically to the stage. Once they were out of eyesight of the crowd, Phasma gave a hiss of sympathy. “Got yourself, didn’t ya?” she asked.

He pulled his now split glove off to take a closer look. He grunted at the fresh swell of blood oozing up from the deep slash in the thumb pad. “So stupid,” he grumbled. “I haven’t cut myself in a long time.”

“Could be worse,” Phasma shrugged, looking at the cut like she was unimpressed. “You could have gotten me.” While she meant it as a joke, Kylo’s face went pale.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I’ll be more careful.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Phasma sighed, clapping a hand down on his shoulder and shaking it. “You haven’t so much as given me a bruise in, what? Seven years?” She opened her eyes wide at him, one of them surrounded by blue swirls. “Who else can say that? Come on, I beat the shit out of you _all the time."_

Kylo huffed at that. It wasn’t exactly true, but he did get more bruises and injuries at Phasma’s hands than she received at his. He tossed the destroyed leather glove in a large trash can filled with paper plates and turkey leg bones, and then went to the first aid kit Mitaka always had nearby to rummage up a band-aid. Mitaka came back at just that moment and gasped, grabbing the bandage out of Kylo’s hands and insisting on disinfecting the cut first. Kylo rolled his eyes but let him. Mitaka would be checking him every hour for an infection otherwise.

“Let’s switch it up for the last show,” Phasma said. “We’ll do your death with the axe to the stomach. You won’t have to worry about fancy grip changes.” Kylo nodded, going through the gear in search of his other pair of leather gloves.

They had an hour and a half to kill, so they went off together, pointedly ignoring Mitaka’s pathetic expression as they left him behind. They shared an order of potato skins and each had a beer before Kylo got Phasma more cinnamon doughnuts.

It was while they were sitting there in the shade of a big oak tree, Kylo half splayed on the table, that Phasma caught him up on what he’d missed the night before.

“...then Brandon nearly fell in the fire, and Abbie had to grab him, and he dropped his beer and nearly fell in again trying to catch it before it spilled…” Phasma used one hand to gesture while she talked, the other firmly planted on her thigh. Kylo watched her hand making strong movements that correlated with the story she was telling, her platinum hair cascading down one shoulder, the strands intertwined in a beautiful mess. He zoned out and just watched her movements and listened to her voice, not really hearing the words until “... but Hux just stood up and left, like five minutes after you did, so he wasn’t even there to yell at him, so I don’t know why he was crying about it. Everyone promised they wouldn’t tell Hux, but he was so convinced he would just know.” Phasma laughed and Kylo stared at her, obviously having missed an important part of the story. “Hux has an honest-to-god yurt,” Phasma continued. “A _yurt,_ Kylo. I bet he has like, a king-sized bed and silk sheets and a mini fridge.”

Kylo shifted uncomfortably and Phasma laughed at him.

“Or at least, you _wish_ he had a king-sized bed in there…” she teased. Kylo let his head fall down on his arm and groaned, annoyed with her and not wanting to play along. She sipped at her beer, nursing it so any small buzz she got would be long gone before the next show. “I haven’t seen our band of Elves today, have you?” Her eyes slid over to Kylo slyly.

“Nope.”

“Can you make it through the day without seeing Hux in his corset?”

Kylo buried his head in the crook of his arm and pretended she wasn’t there. It didn’t deter her at all.

“God, I love their corsets,” she continued, as Kylo wrapped his other arm over his head and tried to hide from her completely. “I love how they give them that absolutely straight shape, you know? Not curvy, just slim and smooth from their hips all the way up the waist...” She started kicking Kylo’s ankle under the table. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, come back,” she laughed. Kylo tentatively raised his face from the tangle of his arms. They both took the last sips of their beer and just as they were about to stand up, Phasma added, “I bet you could get your hands all the way around Hux's waist.”

Kylo refused to look at her until their last performance started, and she seemed to take extra delight in hacking him to death on the stage.

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I couldn't sleep last night, so I wrote this instead.
> 
> A small trigger warning here for body dysmorphic disorder/eating disorders. It is very subtle, not even mentioned by name, but it starts to creep in as an issue starting with this chapter, so just be aware.
> 
> Also adding a few new tags as a result of things brought up in this chapter that will develop later.
> 
> Thank you for all the amazing comments! I'm so glad you guys seem to be enjoying the ren faire idea. :D
> 
> The BEAUTIFUL art is by [elviscl](http://elviscl.tumblr.com/post/158758556510/a-couple-of-things-based-off-of-mothdustmouths)

“Are you going to hang out with the Elves again?” Kylo asked as they packed up their gear for the evening.

“Nah,” Phasma replied, plucking a heavy bag out of Mitaka’s arms and smiling as he gave an indignant yelp. “They're doing some sort of team building thing. Apparently it involves going into town, getting everyone’s eyebrows waxed, and then drinking wine at an art thingy.”

“Please tell me you’re joking,” Kylo grunted, slinging the last of the packs over his shoulder. Mitaka made a tsking noise and tried to take one of the bags from him. Kylo glared.

“Your thumb!” Mitaka squeaked. “Let me at least carry _one_ of the bags.” Kylo rolled his eyes and handed him the lightest tote, trying not to laugh as it nearly took Mitaka’s arm out of the socket.

Kylo turned back to Phasma. “If they do it that way around, won’t their skin be all blotchy and red for the art thing? You're always red and scary looking when you get your musta-” he couldn’t finish because Phasma was beating him with an armored gauntlet and screaming at him to shut up. Her eyes shot back quickly to Mitaka, but he was struggling so valiantly with the bag and trying to keep up that he wasn’t listening to a word they were saying.

Phasma dropped her voice. “That’s a _secret,_ you asshole.” Kylo laughed delightedly, dodging another near blow to the head. He looked up and saw the Elf troupe off in the distance, heading back to the shower building. Even far away Hux stood out. He was trailing after the others, walking like a wraith behind them. Kylo thought he saw him look in their direction for a moment, before he disappeared behind a cluster of tents.

Kylo paused, pretending to wait for Mitaka to catch up with them. The small man gave him such a grateful look when he finally stumbled alongside him, Kylo couldn’t help but snort and grab the bag off his shoulder. Mitaka let out a groan of relief and looked like he was about to float away with his sudden lightness. He ruined his own moment by getting a guilty look on his face for letting Kylo - who in his mind was _wounded_ \- carry that insanely heavy satchel. Kylo refrained from ruffling his hair, but just barely.

They got back to camp and made quick work of stowing their gear and shedding their outer layer of armor, stripping down to the simple cotton tunic and pants they wore underneath. Kylo grabbed the huge jug of wine he’d gotten for ten bucks the last time he’d run to the grocery store in town, as Phasma grabbed their glasses. Mitaka bounced from one foot to the other for a few minutes, eyeing them, but finally gave up when Phasma handed a cup to Kylo and held out her own to be filled and there were no more glasses being handed out.

“See you guys tomorrow,” Mitaka sighed as he turned to leave. The two giants grunted by way of acknowledgment.

“Why don’t we ever do art thingies?” Phasma asked once they were alone. Kylo just sipped his cheap, surprisingly okay wine, and stared at a squirrel that was making its way up a tree by walking around and around the trunk in a spiral.

“I refuse to do the waxing part first,” Kylo said.

“Pedicures?”

“I don’t like strangers touching my feet, so, no.”

“Not even…” Phasma drew it out, a devilish look forming on her face.

“Don’t-”

“...Hux?” Phasma laughed like a demented fiend. Kylo tried his best not to react. It would only encourage her. “We need showers,” she said after a moment, eyes sliding over to Kylo.

“In a bit.”

“But if we went now-”

“Listen, if you want to try and catch the Elves in a state of undress, that’s your business. Go on, go. I’ll wait.”

“You coward,” Phasma huffed. “They’re probably in there right now, taking off each other’s corsets and getting ready for long, steamy showers…”

“I’m going to sign up for jousting. I’m leaving you. And I’m taking Mitaka with me.”

“Like hell you are!” Phasma suddenly looked like she wasn’t joking around. Kylo threw back his head and howled with laughter. That only made her more annoyed, and he had to dodge a kick aimed at his kneecap.

They were too lazy to make a fire, and it wasn’t cold enough to need it, so they ate granola bars and pop-top cans of fruit cocktail. Phasma joked around that if they combined the fruit and wine they would be drinking sangria, which turned into experimenting with ‘recipes’ and resulted in a disgusting cup full of juice sludge and wine that even Phasma couldn’t make herself drink. They turned in early, Phasma saying they would just have to take showers in the morning and Kylo agreeing.

Lying in his tent, Kylo refused to think of his dad’s snoring or his mother’s tuneless humming from evenings spent camping as a family. He refused to remember, to _feel,_ and instead he curled up on his side, staying present, staying _now,_ refusing to drift backwards. Limbo; he just needed to stay in this amber prism of sensation, breathe in, breathe out. No drifting through time, no memories. Hollow. Empty. No past and no future.

He fell asleep listening to crickets, peeping frogs, and the occasional roar of laughter from other campsites.

 

* * *

 

They got up early enough to get showered before their first performance on Sunday. It was the last working day of the week for them. Phasma would be leaving for her part-time job in the city as a receptionist for a tattoo parlor, plus the twice-weekly class she taught on fighting styles in a local gymnasium. ‘Training the troops,’ as she called it. Kylo would be staying behind, bumming around on his own, until Thursday night when she would get back.

“Try not to miss me too bad while I’m gone,” she joked once they had made it back from their last show. She was stuffing clothes and toiletries into her backpack, getting ready to head out.

Kylo just grunted. “Who needs you when I have wine and mosquitoes.” She rolled her eyes and held out her hand vaguely.

“Gimme your gross costume clothes and I’ll wash them,” she offered. It was the usual routine, but he never asked her first. Handing her a bag with the sweaty black shirts and pants he used for the act, he paused and looked at her. “Underwear and socks in here too?” she asked. He went red but nodded. She sighed melodramatically. “God, you’re lucky I consider you sort of a friend.” He mock punched her and she pretended to be mortally wounded, falling back and making exploding gestures with her hands over her stomach like her guts were flying out. Kylo laughed, and she gave him a quick, one-armed hug, and then said goodbye and left him on his own.

He sat in the camp chair by the cold fire pit and adjusted to being alone. He needed a moment, every time Phasma left for the week, to adjust to a silence that he knew wouldn’t be interrupted with laughter or squealing or snoring. The type of silence that was inevitable, that settled around him like a vice at first, one that was cranked too tight around his chest. He had to ease into it, remind himself that it would be fine. Phasma would be coming back. She always had. She always would. The silence was temporary.

It was okay. It was okay.

 

* * *

 

He made it through the next two days by training in the field. Most of the faire people had either headed out for the week, or were only staying in town for one weekend before moving on to a different town. Kylo ran through the new routine, over and over, until he could do the grip changes with his eyes closed. Then he started working on developing some new steps, while Rey cantered around the field or worked on getting the newest horse to walk backwards.

Wednesday morning Rey came to the field riding a huge black gelding. He was as big as a draft horse, his enormous hooves thumping in the grass as Rey brought him over to where Kylo was standing. He sheathed his sword and held the flat of his hand out. A velvet and prickers chin dropped into it as the horse snuffled his palm and blew warm breath over his fingers.

“Hello there, ‘Lizer,” Kylo said fondly. “What are you guys working on today?” he asked Rey, still gazing into the horse’s liquid eyes and smiling.

“Picking our feet up and not being a lazy tank,” Rey responded, thunking the horse on the shoulder and making his black coat shiver.

“You embarrassment,” Kylo murmured to the horse, stroking him between the eyes. “Still stumbling around like a drunk out there in the ring?” Kylo gave him one more pat before stepping back and letting them get on with their routine.

Kylo worked through the exercises designed to keep his muscular body limber enough for the gymnast-like movements required of him during the show. He could hear Rey yelling at the black beast she was riding every few minutes, telling him to _“pick up your bloody feet, you ox!”_

Once Kylo was covered in sweat and his breath was heaving, he finally decided that he’d worn himself out to the point that, hopefully, he would be tired enough to sleep that night, something that was getting harder to do without Phasma in the tent across the campsite. He texted her on the way to the shower building, a change of clothes stuffed into a grocery bag along with his shampoo and towel. She complained about one of her students, and Kylo told her that Finalizer was still dragging his feet during performances, which earned him a laughing emoticon in return.

Kylo was still smiling down at his phone as he walked into the men’s side of the building, setting his stuff down on the counter of the small locker room outside the shower stalls. Each shower had a door for privacy, and there was one counter with sinks and mirrors, and a second one with just a short ledge and a mirror.

He slipped his phone into his bag and started pulling out his toiletries for the shower when he noticed a man standing in front of the mirror by the second counter. A comb and tube of gel sat on the shelf in front of him, but he hadn’t done his hair yet. It flopped over his forehead, still damp, as he stared at himself in the mirror. A towel encircled his slender waist, but otherwise he was one long line of pale skin and faint freckles, as though a puff of copper dust had been sprinkled over his shoulders and forearms.

Hux didn’t seem to realize that Kylo was there. He just continued to stare at his reflection with malice. He angled his body to the mirror and raised one elegant hand to his impossibly flat stomach. Pinching at the skin there, he made a small noise of disgust, shaking his head slightly.

Kylo let his eyes wander down the clean lines of him, trying to figure out what there could possibly be about his body that Hux was taking exception to. When he looked back up, Hux’s eyes were fixed on his in the mirror. Kylo jerked back as though Hux had struck him, and quickly angled his own face away from him, turning instinctively to the right to hide his damaged face. Though his hair was down, it was bright in the locker room, and he didn’t have the extra protection of a hood.

He grabbed his bag and took the whole thing to the shower stall farthest away from the mirrors, hidden in the corner of the hallway. By the time he had finished, Hux was gone.

 

* * *

 

Phasma arrived Thursday evening, right before it got too dark to see, lugging a few bags of groceries and another gallon of bargain wine. She handed Kylo a greasy bag full of drive-thru fries and he set to with fervor, giving her a side hug as he shoved the fries into his mouth.

“Miss me?” she asked, stealing a few fries. He shrugged and squirted a ketchup packet directly into his mouth. She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t deserve to be treated like this, especially since I washed your underwear for you. Kylo just grinned with his mouth full.

They sat around for a bit, Kylo finishing the bag of greasy potatoes while Phasma kept their glasses full of cheap pinot noir. “Let’s go Elf hunting,” she said, her face lighting up. Kylo just made a negative noise. “Come on,” she continued, “I look great right now. I’m all clean and wearing real makeup that I put on in an actual bathroom. This is the best I’ll look all weekend.”

“It’s dark,” Kylo pointed out helpfully. “No one will see you anyhow.” She glared at him.

“Okay, fine. Then I’m too lazy to make my own campfire and I bought marshmallows and they need toasting.” She hopped up and grabbed the bag of jumbo marshmallows and then Kylo’s hand, proceeding to drag both of them with her as she headed off in the direction of the troupe’s campsite. Kylo groaned, twisting out of her grasp long enough to go back for his hoodie. Phasma watched him pull it on without comment, waiting until the hood was up before leading the way.

Rebecca was delighted to see Phasma, and they fell immediately into stories about their week. There were fewer Elves around the campfire that night and Kylo only sat down after making sure Hux wasn’t among them. Rebecca absently handed him a craft beer while she and Phasma looked for good marshmallow-roasting sticks.

The girl that had offered him chips the last time, tentatively held out a bag of pretzels, and this time when he shook his head no and smiled, she gave a small smile back. There was another Elf there, a guy with light hair and a somewhat forgettable face, who was chugging down the pricey beers and chatting with Snack Girl. A few more of the troupe joined them as it got darker, some of them bringing food and booze with them, and soon the only one missing was their ringleader.

It wasn’t until Rebecca lit a marshmallow on fire and then dropped it on her chair while it was still blazing, screaming bloody murder, that Hux sprinted into the ring of firelight looking like he intended to fight whatever wild animal was attacking his troupe member. Phasma and Rebecca dissolved into helpless laughter as they tipped the chair and let the now blackened husk of the marshmallow fall into the dirt and go out. Hux stood down from red alert and then glared at them, his thin chest still heaving from the sudden sprint. Kylo could practically _smell_ the adrenaline pumping through him.

The girls apologized for scaring him, still laughing, and offered to make him a s'more. Hux refused the offer, slowly sinking into an empty chair instead - the same one from last weekend - and only then did he seem to realize that Kylo was there.

Kylo was a little further back from the fire than the others. He wasn’t roasting marshmallows and he wasn’t talking with anyone, just sitting quietly, enjoying not being alone but not participating either. Hux froze when his eyes fell on him, and Kylo could see his throat flash as he swallowed.

“So,” Phasma broke in, “Becca, Hux, why are you guys _here?”_ Rebecca laughed, realizing what she meant, but Hux looked at her, clearly confused. “I mean,” Phasma continued, “why a ren faire? Like this kid said,” she gestured to Kylo, “you are _way_ too professional to be here. You should be on stage or something.”

Hux rolled his eyes but didn’t answer. Rebecca cocked an eyebrow at him and he just moved his hand at her, giving her the go-ahead to explain. “It’s sort of a workshop,” Rebecca said with a small smile. “His idea of course.” Hux pursed his lips slightly as she pointed an accusing finger at him. “The rest of us are all either about to graduate or just have, but Hux has been acting for _years._ He sorta scraped us all together and is helping us learn discipline. He claims that’s the only thing we’re lacking.”

“So wait, you are playing Elves at a ren faire, in the States, thousands of miles from home, camping in the woods, just as acting practice?” Phasma asked, eyes wide.

“Um, well, yeah,” Rebecca laughed nervously, glancing at Hux.

“And this guy is your troupe’s, what? Sugar daddy?” Phasma inquired, pointing an accusing finger at the redhead. Kylo wasn’t sure which one of them choked loudest.

Rebecca squealed with laughter. “Well, when you put it that way…”

“I recently acquired a small theater in London,” Hux said suddenly, obviously not liking the direction the conversation was taking and deciding to get it back on track. Kylo’s gaze snapped to him. His voice was too careful. The accent was British, but it had an edge of something to it. His tone was cold, but not angry. It was calculated, disciplined. “We have a show opening in January, and this lot is the main cast. They lacked the required discipline, but otherwise, they are the perfect choices for the roles. I want to keep the troupe together long-term, and I realized that drastic steps had to be taken with their education.”

“Hux offered us a range of options,” Snack Girl cut in. “This sounded like the most fun. At the time, anyway,” she added, groaning. “Then he showed us the costumes.” Hux rolled his eyes.

“What were some of the other options?” Phasma asked, clearly enthralled.

“Um, let’s see,” Rebecca said. “Theme park work. Like dressing up as Disney characters and stuff. Then there was that one where we would only be allowed to speak lines from Shakespeare’s plays for two months, and if we misquoted we couldn’t speak for the rest of the day.”

“No, no, the _best_ one,” the boy who had been drinking all the beer said, “was the strip club idea.”

Phasma shrieked. “Oh my god,” she wailed. “ _Please_ tell me all about that one.”

Rebecca laughed, shaking her head fondly at Hux. “What was it again?” she teased him. “Two months at a classy dance club? We almost went with that one, but we would have been required to learn pole dancing. Besides, Abbie is shy.” Snack Girl shrugged, clearly wishing she had thought that option through a bit more carefully.

“Hux would have been the star for sure,” Beer Guy said. “He probably would have given up acting and stayed a stripper.” Everyone laughed except Kylo. Hux gave Beer Guy a sly smile and just shrugged.

“No,” Rebecca laughed, “I see Hux at a BDSM club instead.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Beer Guy agreed. Snack Girl nodded. All the other Elves had dropped their conversations and were now paying rapt attention to the main discussion. They all nodded in unison, as though so struck with the idea that they were speechless.

“We have your new future all planned out, boss,” Rebecca said. “If this whole acting thing doesn’t work out, we will personally take you to the most prodigious club in London and sign you up as a dom. You would never need to touch your father’s money again.”

Hux shook his head, allowing the teasing as if he were used to it, maybe enjoying it a little despite himself. Phasma looked doubtful. “This slip of a thing?” she asked Rebecca, mock whispering. “A dom? No way.”

“Oh, don’t let him fool you,” Rebecca chuckled. “He's terrifying.”

The half-lidded gaze Phasma received from the redhead across the fire seemed to confirm her new friend’s assertion. “Okay,” Phasma said quietly, deciding to believe her.

The rest of the evening steered away from the subject of sex work and onto other topics. Though, now that the idea was planted in his head, Kylo couldn’t stop looking over at Hux and imagining what he would look like in tight leather pants. Hux just sat there, occasionally talking, but mostly just staring at the fire or at his phone, sandal dangling by its thong between his toes, his long foot relaxed where it hung suspended over his knee.

When Kylo had calmed down enough to get up without his erection being obvious to everyone, even in the low light, he thanked the Elves for the beer and walked back to his tent. Lying under his blanket in the darkness, Kylo couldn’t stop thinking about Hux’s white foot, his long, slender toes, the perfectly shaped nails. He wondered if he got pedicures. He wondered if he waxed.

Kylo screwed his eyes shut and pulled the blanket over his head, trying to hide from his own thoughts. Unbidden, the image of his own large hands encircling Hux’s slender waist floated in front of his mind’s eye. He groaned and gave in, fingers dipping under his waistband as he pumped himself quickly to completion, biting down on his moan as he came in his cupped hand.

He wiped himself off using a few fast food napkins and lay panting in the darkness, coming down slowly, mind pleasantly blank. What he wouldn’t give for this feeling to stretch on and on forever. This blissful weightlessness. In never lasted long, but he could actually breathe for a few minutes without thinking of his scars or the empty hole in his chest.

He closed his eyes and drifted into sleep, thinking of nothing at all.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please reap the benefits of my insomnia: three chapters in three days. 
> 
> Trigger warning for anxiety and panic attacks.
> 
> GORGEOUS art by [elviscl](http://elviscl.tumblr.com/post/158758556510/a-couple-of-things-based-off-of-mothdustmouths)

“Earth to Kylo, come in Kylo.” He dragged his eyes out of the middle-distance and looked at Phasma. “Why, hello there,” she said. “Nice of you to be joining us today.” He grumbled and finished pulling on his new gauntlets.

They were getting ready for the last show of the day. Kylo had caught his thoughts running forward to the evening, wondering if Phasma was planning on hanging out with Rebecca again, and if so, whether she would drag him along. He kept reminding himself to stay focused, to stay present in the moment and not think about sitting around with the Elves. He didn’t want to look forward to anything. He couldn’t afford any amount of hope or anticipation. He needed to stay in his carefully-constructed limbo, a fly in amber, safe from emotions.

“Did we lose you again?” Phasma asked, suddenly close to him. He hadn’t even noticed her move into his line of sight. He blinked at her. “Okay, now I’m worried. We can call the show off if-”

“No, I’m fine,” he said, pulling his helmet on and settling the rest of his gear into place. “Who’s dying this time?”

“You are,” Phasma decided. “That way if you space out, at least I can just knock you down and hack you to pieces and maybe we’ll still get some money.”

“Fine,” he replied. Phasma gave him a look. Then she turned and caught Mitaka’s eye as he hovered nearby, obviously concerned. The small man seemed to register that Phasma was actually looking at him and did a double take.

“You’ve got the first aid kit handy, right kid?” she asked him. He nodded quickly, eyes huge.

The routine was so familiar, Kylo was able to sink right into the role without too much effort. His limbs ended up where they were supposed to be, he spoke his lines at the right times, and he died with a dramatic flourish.

It wasn’t until he stood back up, Phasma closing the show with her usual spiel, that Kylo noticed how unusually rowdy the crowd was. Phasma’s voice didn’t sound right. It sounded strained, tight. He zeroed in on her face and saw the look she reserved for dead sewer rats and rude men. Sure enough, a group of drunk guys had pushed to the front of the crowd and were catcalling up to her. Kylo caught her eye and she gave a small shake of her head. She didn’t want him picking a fight. If they needed putting in their place, she would do it. Kylo nodded and stood down, letting her finish her lines so they could get back behind the stage.

Mitaka was picking his way through the crowd, cap in hand, trying his best to smile as he collected a few bills here and there and showed off the t-shirts they had for sale. He was making his way back when one of the drunk guys threw an arm over his shoulders and pulled him into the side of his body. Mitaka gave a small gasp of surprise, struggling to get away from the heavy arm.

“Hey blondie,” the guy called up to Phasma. “Tell ya what. I’ll trade this little guy here for a kiss from you.” His friends cheered, delighted with their companion’s clever idea. They all began demanding a kiss as they blearily shoved Mitaka back and forth while he squeaked to be let go.

Kylo was moving before anyone else had a chance to react. His sword was in its sheath or he would have run it straight through the guy that stood shaking Mitaka by his upper arm and laughing up at Phasma. Not having the sword out was annoying, but hardly a hindrance. It meant his hands were free.

Someone was yelling his name and he felt a grip trying to pull him back. _“Oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit...”_ he heard Phasma’s voice behind him chanting in a desperate whisper. He was reaching out to throttle the guy who had grabbed Mitaka. He watched with detached interest as the man’s face went from cocky to deathly pale as he stalked closer. He let go of Mitaka and was saying something about it only being a joke. One of his friends tried to grab Kylo and hold him back, but he threw him off with a flick of his arm and reached out for his target’s neck.

Two small hands were suddenly holding onto his wrists and Mitaka was standing between Kylo and the guy whose throat he intended on crushing with his gloved thumbs. “I’m okay, Kylo!” Mitaka was saying frantically. “I’m okay! It’s okay. No one’s hurt, alright? It’s okay…”

Strong, familiar arms wrapped around him then and Phasma was speaking gently against his helmet, just loud enough so that he could hear. “Kylo, I need you to calm down for me. It’s alright, Mitaka is fine. Everyone’s safe. I’m safe. No one is going to hurt us. Sh, sh. It’s okay. You need to calm down, sweetheart.”

The guys that had started the trouble ran off as soon as they realized Kylo wasn’t going to follow them. The one that had come near to meeting his maker spluttered about keeping the hell away from him. He needn’t have worried. Kylo didn’t give chase. He wanted to, but it was more important that he stay here and protect his team from threats. Besides, now that the immediate danger was over, he was finding it hard to breathe…

Phasma and Mitaka somehow managed to get him behind the stage before he collapsed in a shaking pile of shivering muscle. His body wasn’t working right. He couldn’t make it do what he wanted it to. He couldn’t lift his arms. They were too heavy. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe?

His helmet was being pulled off and he tried to resist. He hated when people saw his face. His arms still refused to move properly and he couldn’t grip the edges of the helmet tight enough to keep it on. Then Phasma’s face was there, her blue eyes seeking his gaze, looking at him intently. Over her shoulder, Mitaka was crying silently. His eyes were red, tears running down his cheeks as he danced from one foot to the other, looking between Phasma and Kylo helplessly.

“Bring me the small silver bag and a bottle of water,” Phasma told him, without glancing back, keeping her focus on Kylo. She put a hand on his chest. “Do you feel my hand?” she asked. Kylo couldn’t form words, but he could nod, so he tried that. It seemed to work and she gave him a small smile. “Okay, good. Now listen. I want you to breathe in and push against my hand, can you do that?” He tried it, choked, and then tried again. “Good, you’re doing good. Just breathe for me, Kylo. Nice and slow. Good.”

Mitaka returned with the bag and the water. Phasma had him take over helping Kylo breathe while she rummaged through the purse looking for the small bottle of medication she kept there. Kylo’s eyes wandered away from Phasma’s hands digging through the jumbled contents of the bag, and crept up to Mitaka’s tear-stained face. He wasn’t actively crying any more, but his eyes were bright and full, like he might start up again at any moment.

“Are you hurt?” Kylo managed. His voice was breathy and stilted, not enough air in his lungs. “Did that fucker hurt you?”

“N-no, no!” Mitaka gasped. “I’m okay Kylo. He didn’t hurt me.”

Phasma was back at his side, kneeling down next to him, a pill in one hand and an open bottle of water in the other. She helped Kylo take the medication, leaning him forward when he coughed taking a sip of water. She rubbed slow circles on his back and murmured to him.

Slowly, things began to clear up. Kylo’s thoughts began moving easier and his hearing and sight began to return to normal. The grey static that had been blocking out his periphery vision eventually dissolved. The sounds of the faire seeped back. He could hear the pickle seller shouting and applause from another stage down the lane. Somewhere a person was beating a drum and he could hear the distant wheeze of a bagpipe starting up. He rubbed his face and looked at both Phasma and Mitaka carefully.

“You’re really both okay?” he asked. They nodded at him, small smiles on both their faces, relieved.

“Mitaka will probably have a bruise, though. Right, kid?” she asked over her shoulder. Mitaka shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“He didn’t grab me _that_ hard,” he proclaimed bravely. Phasma snickered and turned back to Kylo.

“Let’s get you back to camp,” she said, hoisting herself up and then helping Kylo to his feet. He tried to grab the bags of gear he normally carried, but she wouldn’t let him. Instead, she took her normal load, only letting him take one of the bags, and left Mitaka to guard the rest while she walked with him back to the tents. Kylo didn’t want to leave Mitaka by himself, still worried that the guys might come back, so Phasma handed Mitaka a pocket knife and told him to stab them in the dick if they tried to bother him again. Kylo actually managed a smile at Mitaka’s shocked expression, and finally allowed Phasma to drag him back to camp. Once there, she dropped the gear, threw a bag of trail mix at him, and headed back for the rest of the bags and their tiny friend.

Kylo was grateful to be alone, as tears began to prickle behind his eyes, always an after-effect of a bad panic attack. The image of Mitaka’s startled face at being gripped so roughly by a stranger was superimposed in his mind’s eye over another face. His father’s face. Stunned, knowing what his son had done, right before the man brought what was in his fist down into his chest, ripping right through the brown leather jacket; the jacket Kylo and his mom had bought for him.

A sob bubbled up, deep and painful, clawing at his throat to burst out, startling him with its violence. He made it into the tent under the blanket before the rest of the sobs followed. It wasn't a cleansing cry. It didn't relieve any of the pent up guilt and sadness. It was just his body's reaction to an attack, reminding him that he was weak, pitiful. It brought no solace, only a bone-deep feeling of exhaustion. By the time Phasma and Mitaka were back with the rest of the gear, he had cried himself out and was able to lie there, hidden in his tent, and listen silently to their voices.

“Will he be okay?” Mitaka asked in a hushed tone. Kylo could hear them arranging the bags. It sounded like Phasma was going through one of them.

“Yeah,” she said, quietly. “He just needs to sleep. The medication will help with that. We may need to rearrange our show schedule tomorrow, though. Don’t change anything yet, okay? I’ll text you and let you know how he is and what he wants to do, alright?”

“Alright.” There was a pause. “Phasma? Will you, uh, will you tell him thank you for me?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell him.”

“Okay.”

Kylo heard their voices moving away. A few minutes later he could hear Phasma walking around the camp, sighing, then the distinct sound of her pouring wine into her cup. For a while after that there was silence and he supposed she must be reading by the fire pit.

He wanted to tell her that she didn’t have to stay, that she should go hang out with her other friends. But knowing she was out there, that she would hear him if he called out to her, was such a relief that he didn’t end up saying anything about leaving him so she could have a more enjoyable evening. He didn’t mean to be selfish… had _never_ meant to be.

That didn’t stop him from getting the people around him hurt, though.

He fell asleep to the sound of Phasma gently chuckling at something she was reading, as he desperately tried to stay in limbo, refusing to think about the past.

 

* * *

 

By Sunday, Phasma let him perform again. They only did two shows, and she made him die each time, doing the easiest routine while she picked up the slack and did all the fancy moves. The march back to camp with the gear was quiet. Mitaka took off quickly and, afterwards, Kylo just followed Phasma around while she packed up her stuff.

She sat back on her heels and looked at him where he was hovering nearby. “I want you to come stay with me this week,” she said. He shook his head. Phasma sighed. “Please?”

“I’ll stay here.”

“Why are you so stubborn?” she asked him. He gave her a lopsided grin. “Ugh, fine. But at least give me your gross underwear.” He snorted and collected his dirty clothes, handing them over in a plastic bag. She grabbed it out of his hand with a big show of disgust, but then she looked at him for a bit, trying to gauge if he really was alright.

“I’m fine,” he said. “Go have a normal life in the real world and I’ll see you on Thursday.”

She rolled her eyes dramatically. “Oh, such a normal life. Me and my two point five kids, picket fence, and brunch with the gals.” She gave him a side hug, ran a hand over his wild hair, and left for the week. Kylo sat in the camping chair and told himself it was okay.

It was okay.

 

* * *

 

“It’s alright, kid, nothing to be worried about,” Han said, gazing over at his nervous son in the passenger seat. “The truck gets routinely stopped by the cops, you know that. And I can talk my way out of it, every time.”

Ben jumped when the flashlight shone in his father’s window, the guy in the cop uniform asking for identification. Han repositioned himself to grab his wallet and fish out his driver’s license, and just then the guy at the window gave a signal and Ben popped the locks. Han was startled by the clicking sound, turning to Ben to ask him what he was doing, when the driver’s side door flew open and Han was being dragged out.

“No, wait!” Ben yelled. This was not part of the plan. They weren’t supposed to touch his dad. They were only supposed to grab the cargo.

The passenger door opened and a second guy was dragging him out of the truck, his fifteen-year-old weight and strength no match for the hired muscle of the brute holding him.

“No!” Ben screamed again, as two guys held his dad while others started unloading the cargo from the back of the security truck. “This wasn’t the deal!”

A tall, thin man in a three piece suit just shrugged his shoulders. Ben’s eyes snapped to him, recognizing him as Mr. Snoke, the man that had approached him a month ago, telling Ben that Han owed him money. He had said that if Ben helped them get this load of cargo, then Han’s debts would be cleared. “You would be a hero,” the man had said, smiling like oil slick. “You would save your family. Otherwise, I’ll have to get the money your father owes me some other, less pleasant, way.”

Ben narrowed his eyes at the man. One of the thugs twisted Han’s arm and he gave a startled shout. “Stop,” Ben screamed. “This was not the deal.”

“Deal’s changed,” Mr. Snoke said.

 

* * *

 

Kylo barely left his tent. He sat by the empty fire pit sometimes, holding a book but not reading it. Phasma sent him lots of texts, ranging from complaints about work to goofy memes. He replied with one syllable words until she gave up.

On Wednesday, he was eating string cheese and staring at nothing, wondering if it was going to get dark soon and whether he should bother with a shower, when Rebecca showed up. They stared at each other for a moment.

“Hi,” she said, trying to sound chipper.

“Hi,” Kylo responded, deadpan.

“So, we’re cooking hot dogs tonight and I was wondering if-”

“Phasma isn’t here,” Kylo interrupted.

“Um, yeah, okay. I know,” Rebecca said, stumbling over her words. “I uh, I came to ask you to join us. We have more than we can eat ourselves…” she trailed off.

“No thanks,” Kylo said, pretending to read his book. She sighed and dug her phone out of her pocket.

“Fine,” she huffed. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but you’re as stubborn as she said you’d be.” Kylo eyed her warily as she handed him her phone, open to a text conversation.

_If he says no, tell him he will never see his underwear again._

Kylo sighed and rubbed his eyes, careful not to push his hair back and reveal the right side of his face. He handed the phone back. “The threats only get worse from there,” Rebecca said apologetically. Kylo rummaged in his pockets and came up with a twenty, a five, and a couple of crumpled ones.

“Here,” he said, handing her the cash. “That’s twenty seven bucks. Just tell her I accepted and that I went. Tell her I was moody and sullen and ate all the food. Don’t tell her I was nice or that I had fun, that would give it away.”

Rebecca stared at the money in her hands and then started laughing. Kylo became concerned when she wouldn’t stop until she was gasping for breath. “Oh my god,” she finally said. “Oh my god.”

In the end, he went with her to the Elf camp. He didn’t want to, but Phasma’s threats had gotten pretty specific, and this was just easier since Rebecca refused to be bribed. He tried to get her to keep the money anyway as a donation for the food, but she gave most of it back, keeping just the five. “Hot dogs are cheap,” she explained. He pointed out that the beers weren't, but she just shrugged and ignored him.

The entire Elf camp was there, and it seemed like everyone had brought guests. About twenty people were milling around, drinking beer and whittling roasting sticks. Several people were crouched around the campfire, trying to find the perfect spot for cooking their hot dogs, while a few others were setting out buns, chips, and condiments on a picnic table. It was an unorganized affair, people eating as soon as their hot dogs were ready, working in rotation by the fire and eating in shifts. Rebecca took mercy on Kylo, cooking extra hot dogs when it was her turn and giving them to him.

Somehow in all the chaos of cooking and swapping seats, Kylo ended up next to Hux. They were in two chairs farther away from the fire than the rest, the light just barely illuminating their faces. Kylo looked up through the clearing in the trees and mentally named constellations while he only half listened to the conversation around the campfire.

It took him awhile to realize that Hux was staring at him. He was being very subtle about it, and since Kylo was trying very hard to keep his own gaze off the other man, it took him a bit to notice. When he did, however, he couldn’t look away. There was an awkward few moments of blatant staring before Hux asked, “Do you always die at the end of your performances?”

His voice was the way Kylo remembered it, clipped and careful. It took a second for his words to register, but then Kylo shrugged. “No. We have a new routine. I kill Phasma.” He sipped his beer and looked back over at the fire, ignoring Hux’s continued staring.

“In the performances I’ve seen, she always hacks you in the stomach,” Hux said. Kylo could feel his neck muscles tighten. His entire back felt tense.

“How many have you seen?” Kylo asked, trying to get farther into his hood and turn his face even more away from Hux.

“A few,” Hux responded, sipping his water. “And you always die.”

“Well, yeah. We went back to the old routine for a few performances.” Kylo’s leg started to bounce in a steady rhythm, his body trying to work out its nervous energy.

“So this weekend you’re going back to the new one?” Hux asked. Kylo tried not to feel interrogated, but seriously, talking to Hux was intense.

“That’s the plan.”

“I’ll try and catch one then,” Hux said, a small, slow smile creeping up at the edge of his lips. “I’d like to see you take her down.”

Kylo stifled a surprised laugh. “It’s pretty dramatic,” he admitted. Hux looked at him with interest so he continued. “I slice her across the throat, flip the sword, and impale her through the chest. Looks pretty real from more than ten feet away.”

“Do you use fake blood?” he was leaning forward now, shifting his leg over his knee. Kylo tried not to stare as Hux flexed his bare toes.

“No, too messy. We do death screams instead.”

Hux nodded. “Yes, yours is impressive. For a split second I thought she had actually hit you.”

“She actually _does_ hit me,” Kylo smirked. “But the blade is dull and she doesn’t do it as hard as it looks. Well, usually. She broke my rib once.” Kylo stopped talking abruptly. He hadn’t spoken this much to anyone but Phasma in a long time. He suddenly felt anxious, like he was doing it wrong; like he was going to say something stupid if he kept talking.

“Really?” Hux said, his eyebrows rising. “I didn’t know it was that dangerous. You have my respect.” He raised his water bottle in salute, and Kylo mimicked the action with his beer. “Your partner seems, um, rather strong.”

“She is,” Kylo smiled fondly.

“Do you work all the faires together, the two of you?”

“The three of us,” Kylo said, and Hux gave him a questioning look. “Mitaka. He’s the one that designed our t-shirts, plus he does the hat pass at the end of performances and does our scheduling. But, um, no. We don’t always work together. Phasma and Mitaka only do the faires up here during the summer and fall. I travel to the ones down South in the winter.” He took a swig from his beer to make himself stop talking.

“You don’t live in the city?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate. Kylo wished Hux would drop it, but he was obviously determined to drag information out of him.

“I thought maybe you and Phasma lived together, um, here in the city.” Hux’s eyes slid away and then back as he asked the question. Kylo narrowed his gaze at the redhead and noticed that he was sitting up straighter then he had been and was clenching his jaw. Oh. Right, of course.

“Are you interested in Phasma?” Kylo asked. Hux froze, his eyes growing larger and his mouth opened in shock. “Because we’re not together, as a couple, I mean, if you wanted to ask her out.” Hux’s jaw worked uselessly for a moment. He cleared his throat, but no words came. Kylo was concerned that he’d really embarrassed him. Maybe he was shy. “She um, she thinks you’re uh, attractive…” Was that the right thing to say? Phasma might be interested in him, Kylo wasn’t really sure. Phasma just sort of liked everyone.

Hux looked at him with such intense confusion and indecisiveness over how he should respond to this new information, that Kylo eventually began to squirm.

“I’m going to grab another beer, do you want one?” Kylo finally asked him.

“Uh, n-no. I’m good, thanks,” Hux managed.

By the time Kylo got back to his chair with a fresh beer, Hux was gone.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I promised I would let you know when the violent scene was. It has arrived.
> 
> Trigger warning for violence. It takes place during the flashback, so if you would rather not read the scene, just skip that section. The beginning and end of the chapter aren't violent.

Phasma walked into their camp Thursday evening with the usual clean laundry and bags of groceries. Sitting down in her chair, she poured cheap cabernet for herself and Kylo, and then just sat there, staring at him with her chin in her hand.

“Kylo,” she drawled, after several minutes of looking at him like he was an interesting beetle pinned inside a glass case.

“Hm?” He poked at the dirt around the fire pit with a stick and didn’t meet her eye.

“Did you ask Hux if he liked me?”

“Um. That might have happened.” Kylo shifted in his chair.

“I see.” She drank some more wine, considering him. “Kylo?”

“Yeah?” His eyes darted up and then dropped back down again.

“Hux doesn’t like me.”

“But he was asking questions about us…”

“Yes. Go on.”

“He um. He thought maybe we were together, you know, lived together,” Kylo said. “And he was looking at me funny. And uh, how do you know all this already?”

“He was looking at you funny,” Phasma repeated, ignoring his question and sipping her wine to hide a smirk. Kylo shrugged. “And you thought he was trying to ask if we were together because he liked me,” Phasma clarified. Kylo nodded, drawing patterns with the stick.

“It was the only thing that made sense at the time,” Kylo mumbled to his boots. Phasma stared hard at him before reaching out and smacking him in the head.

“Did you actually tell him that I thought he was cute?” she squealed. “I can’t believe you did that!”

“You like him in his corset! You said you did. I dunno, I thought maybe you wanted… I dunno,” Kylo let his face fall into his hands. “I may have panicked a bit.”

“Yeah, that’s kinda what it sounds like.”

“But he’s the one that ran away.” He rubbed at his eyes, trying not to touch the scars on his cheek more than he had to. “I got back and he was gone.” Kylo sighed. “Sorry if I’ve made it awkward for you, Phas.”

“Oh no, honey, it’s not awkward for me at all. You’re the one that’s going to have to deal with the fallout.”

“Nope,” Kylo said quickly. “I’m not going back. You made me go last night. It was a disaster. The end.”

“Well that settles it,” Phasma said, rocking to her feet and grabbing one of the grocery bags. “Let’s go.”

“What?”

“Come on. Quality time with the fairies.”

“Elves.”

“Sure, come on.” Phasma grabbed his hand and tugged on his dead weight uselessly. “Kylo. Come. On.”

Ten minutes and a good deal of threatening later, they stumbled into the Elven camp. Snack Girl met them and chatted with Phasma for a few minutes, letting her know that Rebecca had made a food run and was expected back soon. Phasma handed over the grocery bag containing oatmeal cream pies and a huge bag of M&Ms and then they settled around the fire. Kylo took the seat farthest from the blaze, slouching down and leaning his head back under the hood so that it covered his eyes and most of his long nose. The world went dark, the fabric shielding him from the firelight, and his senses were pleasantly muzzy with so much of his skin swathed in soft clothing. He listened to the voices around the fire, vaguely noting that others were joining the circle. New voices were weaving into the conversation, the overall pattern growing louder, more intense, as several conversations buzzed at once.

It wasn’t until he heard the scrape of a chair being pulled through the dirt on his left that he knew Hux was there. Kylo didn’t look right away, despite the feeling of gravity dropping in his stomach. He tried to pull out of his zombie-like state, straightening up in his chair and pulling the hood back just far enough to see. He snuck a look to confirm that it was, in fact, Hux sitting next to him.

“Sorry,” Kylo said.

Hux looked up at him, startled out of his own thoughts. “About what?” he asked, his expression slightly dazed.

“Well, for, you know. Um.”

Shit.

“Do you want a beer?” Hux asked, coming to his rescue. Kylo nodded once, grateful for the chance to pull himself together. This was a mess. He should just go.

Nope, he’d waited too long. Hux was heading back over.

“Thanks,” Kylo mumbled, taking the beer and keeping his eyes averted from Hux's green gaze. Instead, he watched Hux’s impossibly long fingers cracking the cap on his water bottle. His fingers moved rhythmically, unscrewing the white plastic cap and holding it delicately before replacing it once he’d taken a sip. Kylo’s eyes flashed up to Hux’s mouth, damp and red, before dropping his gaze again, turning his face more into the shadows and shrugging down into his hoodie.

“So,” Hux said, taking a deep breath and sounding resolute about starting a conversation. “You get to kill Phasma tomorrow.”

Kylo gave a small snort. “If she’ll let me.” His eyes drifted over to the blond barbarian where she was talking animatedly with a circle of Elves on the other side of the fire.  Hux raised his eyebrows in a question. Kylo shook his head. “She, uh, she’s very careful with the new routine. It’s the most dangerous one we’ve done. If either one of us is off our game, it’s too risky.”

“And one of you was off your game last week?”

Kylo moved his feet awkwardly in the sandy dirt. “Well, yeah,” he admitted. “That was mostly my fault.” Completely his fault. _Always_ his fault.

“But you feel up to it for tomorrow?” Hux asked, unscrewing the water, taking a sip, replacing the cap; an elegant dance of fingers.

Kylo turned enough so that he could clearly see Hux’s expression without angling his own face too much toward the light. Hux seemed earnest. In fact, his eyes widened slightly as Kylo stared at him, as though he were afraid he’d said something wrong. His posture had gone tense again and he just sat there rigidly, barely breathing. “You really want to see me kill Phasma, don’t you?” Kylo asked, allowing a smile to pull on the left corner of his mouth.

Hux relaxed and gave a small smile in return. “What can I say? I’m a bit bloodthirsty.”

Kylo huffed and swigged his beer. “Why don’t you do a fighting routine with your troupe? I heard something about swords and staffs in Hyde Park, right?”

“Oh,” Hux said. “Right. That was embarrassing. We were all terrible except for Abbie, and she’s the shyest one of the group and didn’t want to teach us. We gave up after a few tries. I did learn how to flip a dagger, though.” He gave Kylo a smug look.

“Prove it,” Kylo said, looking at him straight-on for the first time. He saw Hux’s eyes flick to the right side of his face and then away, but his expression didn’t change. He still had that cocky little smirk.

“Alright,” he said, and stood up. Hux walked out of the ring of firelight and disappeared into the blackness. About three minutes later he returned with two sheathed daggers in his hands. The orange light glinted dangerously off the blades when he drew them out, dropping the scabbards on the seat of his chair. He held them up, one in each hand, for Kylo to see.

“Replicas?” Kylo asked, looking closely at the curved blades.

“No, I had these designed. They’re real weapons. But yes, they’re modeled after the Weta versions of Elven daggers in _Lord of the Rings_ and _The Hobbit._ I wanted them to have that movie-glamour feeling but also be functional.” Without warning, Hux let the daggers fall as he dropped his forearms, the blades flashing as they twisted in his white fingers. The long knives came to rest in an entirely new grip, as Hux widened his stance in a fighting position, before reversing his motions and bringing the daggers dancing back up near his shoulders. It all happened so fast, that if Kylo hadn’t been a trained swordsman, he would have thought the moves were magic.

“You’re good,” Kylo said sincerely. “You ought to carry them with you while you perform.”

“Too sharp,” Hux sighed. “And I don’t want to keep them tied in their scabbards.” He shrugged, offering the hilt of one of the daggers to Kylo. He took it and showed off for a moment, flipping through a few fancy grip changes of his own and feeling the balance of the blade.

“Real nice,” he said, giving the knife back and watching Hux sheathe them. The redhead smirked and sat back in his chair, laying the weapons over his knees. He fiddled with one of the hilts, the elegant silver inlay of the scabbard winking as it caught the light.

“How many years have you been doing this?” Hux asked, once again getting that determined look on his face. Kylo sighed.

“Actually performing?”

Hux nodded.

“About eleven years, I think,” Kylo said, trying to remember what the current date was. Hux looked surprised.

“You must have started when you were really young,” he said. “You can’t be more than, what? Twenty seven, twenty eight...?”

“Twenty six,” Kylo murmured, looking back at the fire.

Hux was silent for awhile. “Fifteen is really young to be performing sword tricks for money,” he finally said.

Kylo shrugged. “I can’t complain.”

“You like spending so much time at the faires?”

Kylo shrugged again. “I don’t mind.”

“So, how often do you get to go home?” Hux asked.

Kylo froze. He stopped breathing. He tried to hold onto the present moment, to the darkness around them, the constellations above their heads. He was a fly, crystallized in amber. No past. No future. Existing now in this one moment of time. He didn’t need to let the emotions overwhelm him, swamp him, drown him.

_Home._

Kylo didn’t realize he was standing up until he was already on his feet, looking down at Hux’s startled face.

“I need to...” Kylo turned to look for Phasma. He couldn’t see her, but she must have been over there somewhere because he heard her laugh. He couldn’t focus. The shapes of people weren’t making sense, they were distorted by the bright light and dark shadows. He shook his head, trying to clear it. “I’m going to go,” he managed, stumbling past the ring of chairs, away from the uncomfortable heat of the campfire.

He thought he heard Hux say something, but he couldn’t understand the words.

 

* * *

 

“We could, of course, pry open the doors, or maybe let our safe-cracker have a go,” Mr. Snoke said smoothly. “We could even drive the truck to a warehouse and finish up there. But I think it will be much easier, much faster, if you just unlock it for us, Mr. Solo,” the tall man sneered, turning to face Han.

Ben was on his knees, a gun pressed to his temple and a beefy hand fisted in his hair, holding him steady. His dad was looking back and forth between Mr. Snoke and his son. Ben knew that the silent alarm system had been activated. He’d made sure of it right before they’d dragged him out of the truck, the only intelligent thing he’d done all night. His main worry was being separated from the truck and the GPS tracker. If they stayed calm, maybe they would be rescued.

The men had gotten the main cargo out of the back of the security truck already, exposing the armored inner vault where the real prize lay. They were slitting open the containers they had hauled out of the back, pulling out the thick bundles of cash that were only a decoy from the advanced weaponry schematics being transported by his father’s company, Falcon Security. Ben had come with him for training, even though his mom had worried about the high risk of this particular job. “It’ll be good for him,” Han had said. “He can handle himself. Let the kid live a little, princess.” She had rolled her eyes but agreed he could go.

“We don’t have a lot of time for prevarication, Mr. Solo,” Mr. Snoke said. He flicked his hand at one of his goons, who had been slashing into the money containers with a box cutter, and motioned to Ben. The huge man stalked over to the teenager as the guy holding him yanked on his hair, pulling his head back.

“Stop!” Han was yelling. “Don’t hurt him! I’ll do _anything,_ just don’t hurt him!”

Snoke looked over at him and smiled. “Very good, Mr. Solo. I was hoping that would be your attitude. I will happily let you help me. However, as we have a few minutes after all,” he paused and looked to one of his men for verification, the man nodded, keeping an eye on some sort of scan on a handheld device, “I can’t imagine you’d take issue with us teaching your brat a lesson in loyalty.”

Han’s eyes grew large. He tried to break free of the goons holding him, only to have one of them kick his knee out from under him.

“Dad!” Ben shrieked. He swung his eyes to Mr. Snoke. “Don’t hurt him! Please!”

“Oh, _now_ you’re concerned about your father,” Snoke said maliciously. He gave a short laugh. “You really believed you were helping your family, didn’t you?”

“I won’t open the safe if you harm him,” Han growled. “Just let him go and I’ll enter the codes.”

“All this fuss over your traitorous, _blind_ son?” Mr. Snoke purred. Han gave him a startled look as the tall man flicked his fingers again and the giant looming over Ben nodded and raised the box cutter to Ben’s right eye.

“No!” Han was thrashing in earnest now, the two guys holding him straining to keep him under control. “Ben!”

“Dad!” Ben called out, bucking away from the angled blade inches from his eye. His hands were free; the man holding him kept a fist in his hair while aiming the gun with the other, and the giant with the box cutter gripped his face in one palm as he raised the blade. Ben was able to get his hand up over his eye at the last second. He’d prefer they shoot him rather than blind him. It was instinctive. He feared the blade more than the gun.

It felt cold. There was a pressure. Then it felt a little wet, like the goon was writing graffiti on him with spray paint rather than attempting to gouge his eye out. It didn’t hurt. The tugging started above his eyebrow, spread in a short line across his knuckles, and then sank into his cheek so deep and fast that he felt the blade against his molars, scraping the enamel as he twisted his head, trying to get away.

Someone grabbed his wrist, trying to pull his protective hand away, and the blade struck several more times. He felt a pulling, ripping sensation on his jaw and the side of his throat, as though something were being peeled off of his face like wet wallpaper.

Then it hurt.

He was screaming but he could still make out Mr. Snoke’s words over his own voice and that of his dad’s pleading. “Now, now, be careful,” Mr. Snoke was saying. “We don’t need to cut through his jugular quite yet, though I appreciate your spirit, soldier.” He turned to Han while Ben lay on the ground, a boot on the back of his neck to keep him from struggling. He was choking on something. Probably blood. He was pretty sure there was blood in his mouth. “My dear Mr. Solo, we are sadly running low on time. I would appreciate it if you’d be so kind as to open the safe for me now.”

Han was crying. Ben could hear him sobbing. It was the worst sound in the world.

His eyes squinted against the blood that seemed to be everywhere, but he could still make out the scene in front of him: his dad, climbing into the truck, followed by the two of Mr. Snoke’s ‘soldiers.’ He heard the tall man’s satisfied sigh as he was handed the schematics. He could just make out his nod of approval before one of the goons lifted a knife and plunged it into his father’s heart.

 

* * *

 

“We don’t have to do the chest stab, Kylo,” Phasma said. “You know that, right? It looks good, but we can come up with something different.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kylo replied.

She watched him for a moment. They were sitting by their small fire, water coming to a boil for coffee. It was Friday morning and they had a full day of performances ahead of them. Phasma hadn’t said anything about last night, but she was used to him taking off abruptly, so he hoped she hadn’t noticed.

“I think we should cancel the shows today,” she said slowly, searching his face. He frowned.

“Why?”

“Kylo-”

“No, I’m fine, Phas. If this is because of me, don’t. I’m fine. If you’re worried I’ll mess up the new routine, then you can kill me instead, okay?”

She sighed and leaned back in the camp chair, rubbing her hands over her face and then back over her hair. “We’ll do the new routine,” she said. “Just. Look, you can tell me if you need a break from this, okay?”

He looked at her, his eyes growing wide. Was she… did _Phasma_ need a break from this? Was she sick of him? Of _course_ she was. How could he not have seen it earlier? She had dark circles under her eyes and looked exhausted. She was working three jobs. _Four_ if he counted her taking care of him- getting groceries and doing his laundry. Christ. Of course she needed a break.

“Yeah,” he said, trying to keep his voice steady. “That might be a good idea. Let’s take a break.”

Phasma looked at him sharply. She obviously hadn’t expected him to take her up on the offer. She nodded slowly. “Okay,” she said. “But I want you to come stay with me for the weekend. We could go out. Or stay in and watch shows. You need to get caught up on all the Marvel stuff and-”

“I’ll stay here.”

“Kylo-”

“I’ll. Stay. Here.”

There was a tense moment of silence. Phasma held her breath, fixing him with a fierce look. Then she deflated, letting her breath out as her face went slack, resigned.

“Okay,” she whispered.

 

* * *

 

It rained that weekend. Kylo took the shuttle from the faire to a bus stop, and then took a bus to the laundromat. He was soaked by the time he got there. When his laundry was done, he stole a fresh garbage bag from under the sink in the bathroom, and used it to keep his clothes dry on the way back to camp.

He read books, drank cheap wine, and stayed carefully in limbo.

By Sunday evening he really needed a shower. It was still raining, but he figured that didn’t matter since he was just going to get wet anyway. To save as many dry clothes as possible, he pulled on a pair of black pants - the ones he usually wore under his armor - because they would dry the quickest once he got back. He pulled out a towel, but set it just inside the tent flap, so he could dry off when he got back. Walking shirtless and barefoot, he carried a grocery bag with his shampoo and soap to the showers, the rain drenching him as he walked through the semi-dark.

There were more men in the locker room than he would have expected for such a dismal night, though there were still a few shower stalls available. Kylo made his way to the farthest one, trying to ignore the fact that Hux was shaving at one of the sinks, and that his mouth had dropped open when he caught sight of Kylo in the mirror.

Kylo took his time washing his hair, letting the hot water run over his head and back, his eyes shut tight. If he waited long enough, Hux would be gone by the time he got out, and he wouldn’t have to face yet another disastrous interaction with him.

He thought he’d waited long enough, but when he walked back out after struggling to pull on wet pants over wet skin, Hux was just packing up his things. Kylo tried to escape unnoticed, but Hux stepped into his path at the last moment, sporting his determined look.

“You don’t have a towel,” he said, green eyes scanning him.

“I’m fine,” Kylo said, attempting to move around him. Hux wouldn’t allow it.

“You’re shivering,” he said, accusingly. Kylo made a noise had hoped would sound like an annoyed groan, but came out more like a whimper. “Here,” Hux said, reaching into his waterproof canvas tote and pulling out a fluffy white towel. Without hesitating, he reached up and began rubbing it over Kylo’s dripping hair. The towel smelled good. Like expensive drier sheets.

“I don’t need you to dry me,” Kylo grumbled, trying to grab the towel out of Hux’s hands. Hux made an exasperated noise and let him take the towel. “I’m just going to get wet again anyway,” Kylo griped, as he wrapped the soft material around his shoulders. He wanted to keep it there forever.

Hux seemed to sense his reluctance to give it up, and he slowly raised one eyebrow. He had good eyebrows. They were thick and nicely shaped, but not over-groomed. It would have made more sense for a guy playing an Elf to have delicate eyebrows. Hux’s were a bit aggressive. And copper-colored. And Kylo realized he was staring.

“Um, I should probably give this back to you,” Kylo said, pulling the towel off his shoulders.

“Come hang out with me for a bit,” Hux said, almost at the same time. Kylo stopped, the towel clutched in front of his chest.

“What?” Kylo didn’t understand.

“It’s just that, uh, Rebecca said that Phasma wasn’t around this weekend, and you… you don’t have anyone else at your campsite, right?” Hux was shifting from foot to foot. “That’s got to be pretty boring, so why don’t you come hang out for a bit.”

“It’s raining,” Kylo pointed out again.

“Well, yeah, but I have a big tent. The troupe hangs out there all the time…” Hux was looking all around the locker room, everywhere but at Kylo.

“Did Phasma put you up to this?” Kylo asked. “Because you don’t need to babysit me for her. I’m fine.”

Hux was giving him his shocked look again. It was rather endearing to see him go from stoic and poised to gobsmacked and slack-jawed. “How often do you think I talk to your stage partner?” Hux asked, seeming genuinely mystified. “I swear, she hasn’t put me up to anything. I don’t think I’ve said more than a few words to her, ever.”

Now it was Kylo’s turn to stare. “But, then why…” he trailed off.

“Just,” Hux huffed at him, finally cracking from impatience. “Come and have a drink with me.” With that he turned and walked out of the locker room. Kylo trailed after him, clutching the towel around himself like a cloak.

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have slept at last! It feels weird to be rested. 
> 
> Trigger warnings for this chapter are in the end notes.
> 
> Thank you again for all your comments!!! I love sharing this with you guys.

Kylo sat on a canvas folding chair, huddled in the fluffy white towel now damp from the rain but still warmer than nothing, and watched as Hux rummaged around in a suitcase. The yurt was like a palace compared to Kylo’s tent. It was seven feet tall at its lowest point and at least ten in the middle where it was supported by a sturdy post. Hux had a generator that ran whisper-quiet just outside, cords snaking in under the fabric of the wall to power a small space heater and several low-watt lamps hanging from support beams overhead. The whole thing was more like an ad for an exotic excursion to Arabia than anything a real person ought to have set up at a ren faire.

Adding to the other-worldliness were seven tailor’s dummies circling the room, each with an Elven costume carefully displayed, and a shelf with seven Styrofoam heads with long wigs trailing over blank faces. There were several mirrors set above small dressing tables, stacks of cosmetics arranged neatly across the tops.

“This is the best place to keep everything and get dressed,” Hux said, waving a vague hand at the costumes when he noticed Kylo staring. Kylo just nodded slowly as Hux approached him with a blanket, which he traded for the damp towel, tossing it into a laundry hamper. “I don’t have any shirts that will fit you,” Hux said, his eyes trailing over Kylo’s frame as he shook the blanket out so he could settle it around his shoulders. It was fluffy and smelled like the same fabric softener as the towel. Kylo nuzzled in and huffed in relief at not being cold. Hux made sure he was comfortable and then wandered off to another spot in the tent to get them each a drink.

Kylo blinked for way too long and realized that he was falling asleep sitting there. The heater was slowly warming up the chilly tent, drying out the dampness from the rain, and the blanket was soft on his naked skin, cocooning him. His damp hair tumbled in his face. As usual, he kept his right side turned away from Hux, just as he’d been doing since entering the locker room earlier. It was instinct at this point. However, Hux didn’t seem to be trying to see the scars, and he hadn’t reacted when Kylo had looked straight at him the other day, so Kylo let his guard down enough to begin to drift. The canvas chair had a high back and he slumped into it, letting out a small groan.

He had barely slept in days. The break in his routine had thrown him off. Not having Phasma there when she was supposed to be had ruined his carefully maintained operating system. He’d been trying so hard not to think of _home_ that he had needed to pace around in the fields late at night and go for exhausting walks around the trails, just to get back to his tent and lie awake, missing Phasma’s soft snoring across the cold fire pit.

He was so tired. And it felt almost safe here…

Kylo fought it. As much as he was wanted to give in and fall asleep, he had embarrassed himself enough around Hux, and he really didn’t need to add to the growing list. He wondered if the Elves sat around and talked about him, if they wished Phasma would just come by herself instead of dragging him along every time. He pulled the blanket closer, rubbing his cheek on it while Hux’s back was turned.

“Um,” Hux said, surveying what supplies he had in his make-shift kitchen. Kylo noted with a pang that he _did_ have a mini fridge and wondered if he should text Phasma. “I have beer. I can make you hot chocolate and add rum or Irish cream.” He opened a few grocery bags and looked inside. “I have wine.” He looked back at Kylo. “Sorry, that’s it for right now.”

“Just rum,” Kylo managed. The hot chocolate sounded good but he already felt like a little kid being taken care of by a long suffering sitter, and he needed to man-up his image a bit. Besides, rum would warm him up just as quickly by itself.

Hux poured him a generous helping of top-shelf alcohol and handed it to him in an actual glass tumbler. Kylo glared at it until Hux turned to get himself something, then Kylo sniffed the amber liquid. This was the good stuff. He savored the first sip, letting it burn like sunlight over his tongue and down his throat. Hux came back with a small glass of white wine filled to the brim with ice. Kylo was jealous. The only time he ever got ice in anything was when he paid too much for a Coke at the fry and potato skins stall. He wondered how much a generator and mini fridge would set him back.

Hux sat down in a matching canvas chair to Kylo’s left, angling it so they could see each other while they talked. After taking a small sip of his wine and making a face like he had died and gone to heaven, Hux set the glass down on a small table and pulled out his phone. He tapped at the keyboard with his thumbs, and then set it down next to his glass and turned his attention to Kylo.

Even in the dim light, Hux’s skin seemed to glow, luminous and clear, the freckles like a dusting of fine baking chocolate sprinkled over his nose and the back of his hands. Kylo stared out of the corner of his eyes and hoped Hux didn’t notice. He sipped at his glass, warming up from the inside out, as Hux rested his head in his hand and seemed to be waiting for something.

“Knock knock,” came a voice from outside the tent flap. One of the Elves burst in. He didn’t seem surprised to see Kylo there. He was one of the few Kylo hadn’t talked to yet, the broadest one of the actors, though still model slender. “I found this,” he said, holding up an Oxford hoodie. “It’s the biggest thing I own.”

Both of the Elves turned a speculative eye on Kylo, examining him like he was an overstuffed sofa that they were trying to get through a narrow door. “I think it will fit,” Hux said, taking the sweatshirt from the other man and tossing it over to Kylo.

Kylo held the hoodie in his hands, looking up at their expectant faces. He stood reluctantly, shedding the blanket in the chair, and pulled the garment over his head. It barely fit his broad shoulders, the material straining to accommodate them. Everywhere else it was baggy and comfortable.

Kylo offered them a small smile, face angled away, hair falling forward. They both smiled back, looking bemused and lost in thought. The other Elf startled first, coming back from wherever he had been, and elbowed Hux, who just snorted and thanked him for the shirt. Kylo remembered his manners and thanked him too.

“Believe me, it was my pleasure,” the Elf responded. Hux muttered something under his breath and the guy took off, still smirking. The hoodie didn’t smell the same as Hux’s blanket; clean, but not the same. Kylo didn’t bury his nose in it.

Once they were alone again, they sat down and grabbed their drinks, neither breaking the silence. Hux swirled the wine in his glass, mixing in the melting ice with the pale alcohol before taking another sip.

“So, Phasma didn't come to the faire at all this weekend?” Hux asked, his tone casual.

“She’s taking a break,” Kylo responded.

“I think Rebecca misses her,” Hux said. “She’s been scowling at us around the campfire.” Kylo gave a small nod, not knowing what to say, and stared at the drink in his hands. He’d only gotten about halfway through it. “You’re always welcome, you know.” Hux said. Kylo looked sideways at him. “I mean,” he faltered, “you don’t have to bring Phasma. You’re always welcome, to uh, come have a beer with us.”

“Thanks.” They glanced at each other and then away. The dwindling ice in Hux’s glass clinked softly. He held it, moving the glass gently around, not sipping, looking like he was trying really hard to think of something to say. Kylo sighed. “I don’t know when she’s coming back,” he finally admitted.

Hux looked concerned. “Did you two, um, have a fight?” he asked gently, obviously not sure if it was a good idea to pursue the subject.

“Sort of. She just… really needed a break from all this, I think. She works other jobs, and she’s been doing this for longer than I have, so I don’t blame her.”

“You two are very dedicated,” Hux said.

“You’re one to talk,” Kylo smirked, gesturing to the mannequins and dressing tables. Hux made a pained face.

“Yeah, well. I view this as a one-off acting bootcamp. You do this every year.”

Kylo shrugged. “Having a yurt with electricity would make things a lot easier, that’s for sure.”

Hux cringed. “It’s... practical?”

Kylo lifted his visible eyebrow, smiling a tiny bit. “Okay.”

“It is!” Hux proclaimed. Then he sighed. “This was easier than driving back to a hotel every night.”

“Sure.”

“Anyway, I don’t know how you stand staying in a tent for weeks on end. I’m sleeping in this luxurious monstrosity and I still can’t wait to get back to my flat.”

Kylo shrugged. “It’s okay. You get used to it.”

Hux looked very doubtful. “I miss running water. And a proper kitchen. And you know, floors.”

Kylo gave a low chuckle. He sipped his drink and nestled farther down into the chair, scrunching the blanket behind his back comfortably. He closed his eyes as Hux described what he missed most about his apartment, and then why he missed London and being on a proper stage. His voice still sounded precise, but it had lost the strangling discipline that made it sound affected. Now his voice was much warmer, charming in its posh Londoner cadence.

“Are you asleep?” Hux suddenly asked. “I mean, I know I can drone on once I start talking theater-”

“No, I’m not asleep,” Kylo assured him. He cracked open an eye and peered at Hux. The ice had almost completely melted in Hux’s glass and he set it down with a sigh. “Sorry you haven’t gotten to see me kill Phasma yet.”

Hux brightened. “Yes, you owe me one murder. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t.” Kylo stood slowly, his body offended that he was thinking of leaving now that he was finally warm and had real alcohol in his system.

Hux got an odd expression on his face as Kylo stood up, almost like he was sad to see him go. Still, Kylo felt that he had long outstayed his welcome. Hux probably wanted to go to bed or hang out with his friends.

“Um,” Kylo said, looking down at the borrowed sweatshirt. He gripped the hem and started pulling it off.

“No,” Hux said, putting out a hand and tentatively touching Kylo’s knuckles. “You keep it. At least until tomorrow. Come join us in the evening and return it then, will that work?”

Kylo stood completely still, his entire being focused down to that one warm point of contact between Hux’s hand and his own. His skin radiated a warning from that spot, an intense nerve shock of contact. No one ever touched him but Phasma, and even that contact was brief and infrequent. Mitaka had held his wrists last week to keep him from flying into a violent rage, but other than that, he couldn’t remember the last time someone had gently touched him.

Kylo stepped back, Hux’s white fingers falling away from his skin. Kylo wondered for a moment if Hux had felt the old scars there, the ones from the box cutter, because Hux had touched the hand that had shielded his eye from the blade. “Sure, okay,” he managed, backing up towards the exit. “Um, thank you.”

“No problem,” Hux said, offering a small smile. “See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” Kylo swallowed. “Bye.”

“Goodnight,” Hux said quietly.

Kylo swept out the tent flap and back toward his own camp. At least the rain had stopped.

 

* * *

 

They never caught Mr. Snoke.

The agents working on his case were familiar with Mr. Snoke’s mode of operation. He commonly used his targets’ families as a means of infiltrating security in order to steal tech and information, which he would then sell on to businessmen, governments, or terrorists. It seemed he didn’t really care as long as he got paid.

Ben served a few months in juvenile detention awaiting trial. He was tried as a minor and character witnesses were brought in to swear he was a great kid with a heart of gold who had just been manipulated by a psychopath. It was explained that Mr. Snoke was a master at manipulating his victims and that Ben had really believed he was helping his family. Another fact in his favor was that he'd been the one that activated the silent alarm, leading to the authorities being in time to rescue him and capture a few of Mr. Snoke's men. The judge took pity on him, deeming that with the trauma he had been through, combined with his time in the correctional institution, he had been punished enough.

He was released.

Leia brought him home, trying not to cry with relief that he was finally out of juvie. They got take-out burgers and fries on the way home and then they both went straight to bed, even though it was still early, emotionally and physically exhausted.  

When Leia got up the next morning, she made a big breakfast of waffles and bacon, hoping she could get Ben to eat more than he had the night before. She had thrown away most of his food.

When breakfast was on the table, she went to her son’s room. The bed was empty. It hadn’t even been slept in.

 

* * *

 

It didn’t rain on Monday, though it stayed gray and chilly, the damp coolness of an autumn forest after a storm. Kylo lay on his sleeping bag for a long time, willing himself to get up. He needed to charge his phone at one of the electrical outlets set up for the faire and see if Phasma had texted him. Instead he lay there with one arm over his eyes, thinking of the hours he had to get through until Thursday. Even that didn’t really mean anything, not if Phasma wasn’t coming back.

He finally got up. He didn’t even realize he was moving until he was already unzipping the tent and stepping out onto the wet grass. He charged his phone while he made coffee, eating some of the stale trail mix he found in the bottom of one of the gear bags. He would have to go buy food soon. It would take several hours round trip. He rubbed a hand tiredly over his face just thinking about it.

He finally decided that he could put it off until the next day. He was supposed to return the sweatshirt tonight, and there was a possibility the Elves would have food. If not, he would just go without and go shopping in the morning.

He read the texts from Phasma while he was drinking his coffee. _I forgot to take ur clothes! Omg, kid, please tell me u didn’t go to the gd laundromat. Do u have food?! Are u still alive? What was I thinking?_

His heart clenched, fondness and guilt warring. _U don’t have to feed me and clean me, that’s not ur job, Phas. But yes, I’m still alive._

There was a pause before she replied. He wondered which job she was at right now. Probably the tattoo parlor. _U don’t have food, do u?_

Kylo sighed. _I have trail mix._

_I’ll tell Rebecca u’re coming over to their camp tonight. They will feed u._

_Don’t text Rebecca. I’m going over there anyway._

_Oh?! Tell. Tell telltelltell._

Kylo closed his eyes. When he opened them again, the text was still there, demanding to be answered. _Don’t read too much into this... I have to return a sweatshirt._

_OMG. Kylo, did u bang an Elf? Make my week!!!_

He smiled in spite of himself. He could practically hear her squealing at him. _No. Sorry to disappoint._ He paused a moment, a mischievous smile creeping over his face. _I was half naked in the yurt, tho._

_For fuck’s sake Kylo!!! Please tell me u were with Armitage and that tongues were involved._

_U get the details when I get cheap wine & cookies. _

_Oh, I see how it is. Learning to be devious, huh? Hang out with other people and get all high and mighty on me. Fine. I can keep secrets too. I went on a date and I’m not telling u any details. Not even a name. So there._

_Fine._

_Fine._

Kylo tossed his phone in the empty chair next to him, Phasma’s chair. He smiled. She was going to come back. She hadn’t left him for good.

Not this time, anyway.

 

* * *

 

Rebecca greeted him with an alarmed cry when he stepped into the ring of firelight shortly after nightfall.

“You're so bloody _silent,"_  she complained. “I didn’t hear you at all. Ugh, my heart.” She held a hand over her chest and glared at him, before letting her expression turn into a begrudging smile. She looked over his shoulder then, hopefully.

“I’m alone,” Kylo said. “Sorry.”

Rebecca’s face fell, but a moment later she shook off her disappointment and offered him a beer. Kylo accepted it and perched himself on a log that was just outside the light of the fire. From his vantage point he could see the the little tableau of actors as if they were on a movie set. There were only a few of them around the fire at the moment, two Elves besides Rebecca, and a man Kylo didn’t recognize who was chatting with Beer Guy.

Kylo watched Rebecca texting, the screen illuminating her face while she tapped her message. A few minutes later, Hux appeared with a canvas bag over his shoulder. He was wearing slim-fitting dark clothing again, his sweater pulled over his arms against the chilly air rather than just draped over his shoulders. He set the bag down on the picnic table and started pulling out sliced bread and cheese along with sandwich presses.

“Mmm, toasted cheese?” Snack Girl asked. Hux nodded and she went over to help him assemble the food. More people started showing up, and a few helped prep bread and cheese while the others grabbed beers and found seats. Hux handed around the prepared sandwiches to the people sitting close enough to the fire to cook them, and then he came and settled next to Kylo on the log. He brought him a second beer, which Kylo gladly accepted.

“Thanks for the sweatshirt,” Kylo said, holding it out to Hux. “Sorry I didn’t get a chance to wash it.” He felt his face heat up at the admission, feeling gross handing back it back unwashed. If he had thought ahead, he would have taken the bus out to the laundromat in the morning.

Hux glanced down at the shirt and then back up at Kylo. “If I take this back,” he said slowly, “you’ll still stay, right? You aren’t dumping this and running back to your other friends?”

Kylo snorted at that, shaking the sweatshirt at Hux until he finally took it. “As disappointed as my hundreds of friends will be, I’m not leaving until I get at least one grilled cheese sandwich.”

“You realize you may be eating last, then,” Hux said, smiling as he uncapped his water bottle and took a sip. Kylo opened his mouth to say something but realized at the last second that he had no idea how to respond. So he just stared at Hux awkwardly until he let his eyes drop to the beer in his hands, slowly shredding the label off the brown glass.

Despite his threat, Hux handed Kylo a paper plate with the first grilled cheese off the fire and watched him out of the corner of his eye as he ate it greedily, though he tried to go slow and not look like a complete pig in front of Hux. It was simple food, but satisfying. It had been awhile since he’d had melted cheese on anything other than the loaded potato skins he often shared with Phasma, and it tasted good. He didn’t even protest when Hux added a second sandwich to his plate, eating it with as much enthusiasm as the first.

Hux picked through a bag of grapes, biting them in half, eating them slowly as he made small talk with Beer Guy and Beer Guy’s friend, who was apparently also a performer. Something to do with the mermaid tank. Kylo wasn’t really listening. He finished the second sandwich and then got up to pitch the paper plate into the fire, the flames lighting up his face for a moment.

“Whoa!” Beer Guy’s friend exclaimed, staring at him as Kylo moved to sit back down next to Hux. “Dude, what happened to your _face?_ ” Kylo froze, his hands clenching over his knees. He could tell by the kid’s voice that he’d had a few too many, and the eyes that were staring at him from near the fire were wide and glassy with alcohol. “Did that happen during a sword fight? God, it looks like someone pulled the skin _right off._ ”

“Someone did,” Kylo answered quietly. He was shaking. Everyone else around the fire had stopped dead, staring between the two, anxious. Beer Guy was pulling on his friend’s arm, trying to distract him by picking up their conversation again. The boy looked at Kylo a few more times, mouth gaping open, before turning his attention back to his friend. Everyone else seemed to give a collective sigh of relief before continuing on with their own conversations.

Hux was staring straight at Kylo, a nervous expression on his face. He had set everything down next to him on the log when the boy had mentioned Kylo’s face, and his empty hands fidgeted in his lap.

“Did Phasma tell all of you not to mention my scars?” Kylo said, suddenly realizing that’s why no one had said anything or ever looked at him for too long. They had been warned not to. He felt the icy heat of shame crawl up his spine like the sudden onset of a fever, as a voice in his mind confirmed that he would never truly be accepted anywhere, by anyone. The only reason this group put up with him was because of Phasma, who’d obviously felt it necessary to warn them not to upset her freakish sideshow of a friend. Which meant that at some point she’d said something about him, about his scars, about his temper.

_He’s dangerous. You can’t trust him. Don’t turn your back on him and don’t mention his face…_

Kylo’s breath was beginning to stutter. He was hiding it as best he could, but a feeling of strangulation was working its way up his throat, making his jaw ache. His hands felt heavy, numb. Hux was still looking at him with growing alarm. He needed Hux to stop looking at him. Then maybe Hux wouldn’t be so afraid of him, would stop worrying that Kylo would hurt him or any of the others. Hux just really need to stop staring, gazing at him with those wide green eyes.

“I should go,” Kylo managed, strangled. Phasma had left him some pills. They were back in his tent. If he could just make it there and get the bottle open, manage to take one ( _take them all,_ a voice in his mind implored) he would be okay.

Hux stood with him, moving away from the camp fire and the laughing voices of his friends. They stood on the path that led back to Kylo’s campsite, their eyes adjusting to the dark. “What do you need?” Hux asked, his voice quiet, sincere.

“You should go back to your friends,” Kylo managed, his voice still choked. “I’ll be fine. I just have to get to-” He gasped for breath, a weight like a sandbag slamming him in the chest.

“You have medication?” Hux asked. Kylo nodded. “Back at your campsite?” Kylo nodded again. “Alright, lead the way.”

Kylo shook his head, getting frustrated. “No, no, I can get there alone. I’m okay.”

“I _know,”_ Hux said instead of arguing. “It’s just so that I feel better, okay?” Kylo made an aborted noise of frustration and started walking, Hux keeping up with him easily as they made their way to the dark campsite.

Kylo’s breathing was ragged in his own ears, too loud and panicked sounding. He tried to breathe more normally, but the pain in his chest and throat only increased, until he was fighting for breath. Hux kept looking over at him like he wanted to reach a hand out, his arm flitting up towards Kylo’s elbow and then away.

When they finally made it to the small campsite, Kylo went to his tent and tried to unzip the flap, but his numb hands refused to cooperate. Without a word, Hux stepped up and did it for him, then moved back out of the way. Kylo reached inside and dragged a bag out. He collapsed, cross legged, next to the empty fire pit and pulled out a pill bottle and a canteen that still had a slosh of water in the bottom. Hux took the pill bottle out of Kylo’s hand, working the child safe cap open. “Just one?” he asked. Kylo nodded.

Once the he’d swallowed the pill, he lay back and put his arm across his eyes, his hood pulled over his ears, blocking everything he could out, muffling down the sensations so that there was nothing but him and his breath. He shut out the agony of his body, knowing that he wasn’t really injured anywhere, not physically. He tried not to think about Hux seeing him like this. He had tried to get him to stay away. The shame was far worse than an attack. The attacks were finite, they left and returned like an obnoxious roommate. Sometimes he wouldn’t have them for weeks, months, at a time. The shame was omnipresent and suffocating.

His breathing was finally under control, the burning in his chest subsiding, when the second phase began creeping up on him. He could feel it in his throat and behind his eyes. He needed Hux to leave for this part.

“I need to be alone,” Kylo said, his voice betraying him, hitching and barely forming words.

“I don’t want to leave you-”

“Please, Hux. I don’t want you to see. I n-need to be alone.” Kylo squinted his eyes closed. He could feel the tears. It was like they were leaching out of his inner skull and rushing towards his eyes. His throat tightened and flexed. He knew in a moment he wouldn’t be able to speak at all without sobbing. He burrowed his face farther into the thick arm of his hoodie.

Hux shifted closer for a moment. Kylo felt a gentle touch on his elbow, over where he was shielding his eyes. “Okay,” Hux murmured. “But please be here tomorrow. I’m going to come look for you.” He stopped, started to say something more, and stopped again. Then he was leaving Kylo, finally, alone. Once his footsteps had faded far enough into the dark that Kylo knew Hux wouldn't hear, he rolled over onto his side, curling up into himself and sobbing, his wretched body betraying him yet again.

Hux had told him that he still needed to be here tomorrow. That he was coming to check up on him.

Kylo decided to listen. He wouldn’t be taking the entire bottle of pills, then, not tonight. He wouldn’t listen to that voice that told him he should.

Not this time.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings for chapter 6: Panic attack and suicidal thoughts.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings in end notes.

Kylo was freezing when he woke up, in the middle of the night, curled on his side by the cold fire pit. He groaned as he heaved himself to his elbows, his back and neck protesting the posture he’d forced them to endure for the last several hours. His right arm was asleep from where he’d lain on it and his head felt like it was ready to split open. He was dehydrated and shivering and covered in dirt and dead leaves.

He scrabbled through his bags in the dark, looking for a fresh bottle of water, getting increasingly frustrated when he couldn’t find one. He made his way to a water spigot, the crooked pipe sticking out of the ground a few hundred yards from the campsite. He drank out of it directly, having forgotten to bring the canteen. The cold water tasted metallic as he slurped it down. His head pounded a little less fiercely as he walked back to his tent in the dark.

Finally collapsing onto his sleeping bag, Kylo pulled the gray army blanket over himself and tried not to think. He just had tomorrow and Wednesday and the beginning of Thursday to make it through before Phasma came back. He just had to make it until then…

Tomorrow he would come up with some sort of schedule to follow, anything to keep his mind from wandering to the past or the future. _Just this week,_ he thought. _Just this week, gotta make it through this one miserable week._

When he opened his eyes again it was dawn. He got up and walked back to the water tap, this time with the canteen. Once he was back at camp, he started a small fire to boil water for coffee.

The trail mix was gone. He’d need to go to the store today. Sighing, he went and checked his store of pills. Only two left. They made a small mockery of his thoughts from last night. He’d had no easy way out after all. He wondered idly if Phasma had only left him a few on purpose, taking the rest with her. Maybe he would ask her. If she came back.

Kylo considered his options. He didn’t want to risk a panic attack by going to the store, but he also needed food. He sat in the camp chair by the fire, rubbing his face and trying to plan.

Shower. Grocery shopping. Workout.

He could manage that.

By the time he got back from his shower, hair dripping onto the towel he had draped around his shoulders, Hux was sitting in his chair by the smoldering ashes of the fire. When he caught sight of Kylo, the redhead visibly relaxed, his thin shoulders dropping a fraction as he smiled a tiny smile at the bigger man.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” Kylo returned, his voice gravely. He cleared his throat and dropped into the chair on Hux’s right. They both waited to see if the other would bring up what happened the night before. Neither mentioned it. “Want some coffee?” Kylo asked. “It’s just black, Phasma used all the powdered creamer.”

“Yeah, sure,” Hux answered. He leaned forward and pulled out a box of donuts from one of the bags at his feet. “It’ll go good with these,” Hux added, setting the box down on a stump serving as a table. Kylo could see the half dozen donuts through the clear plastic top, each one a different type. He grunted with what he hoped sounded like appreciation and got up to make more coffee.

While they were waiting for the water to boil, Hux told Kylo a story about Plutt trying to put the moves on Rebecca, and how she had simply walked too fast for him to keep up and managed to escape him that way. Kylo handed Hux a blue metal cup full of coffee and settled down with his own, breaking into the box of donuts without hesitation.

“Rey’s started exercising the horses out in the farthest field,” Kylo said, choosing a cake donut with chocolate frosting. “I think she figures he won’t walk all the way out there.” Kylo took a bite, making an appreciative noise. He slurped at his cup, always careful to keep his face angled away. He wasn’t a pretty sight while he was eating. The scars made his skin stretch oddly when he chewed, so he turned his face to the side, though Hux seemed to be just looking into his coffee mug and chuckling. “Phasma got Mitaka thinking Plutt liked him, too, which, well, it was mean but also hilarious.”

“Mitaka,” Hux mused, taking a tiny sip of coffee. “This isn’t bad by the way. I thought it would be instant.”

“Real beans. My one luxury.”

Hux eyed Kylo’s sad excuse for a tent. “Clearly,” was his comment. After another moment he said, “You've mentioned Mitaka before. He’s your weapons master?”

Kylo laughed at that. “More like our mascot,” he admitted. “He does everything Phas and I don’t, which is pretty much everything but fight and haul the gear around, actually. I suppose we should go easier on him.” Kylo shrugged.

“So, he’s a friend?” Hux asked, bringing the enamel cup to his lips again while glancing off in the other direction, as if suddenly interested in something out in the woods. Kylo followed his eye line, but didn’t see anything but trees.

“I guess that’s the best word for him,” Kylo sighed. _“Slave_ sounds a bit too barbaric, doesn’t it?”

Hux swallowed wrong and started coughing. Kylo turned towards him ready to offer to thump his back, but he got himself under control quickly. After a few minutes of silence, Kylo picked up the bakery box again.

“Okay, so I really want another one, but I don’t want to be greedy,” Kylo said.

Hux smiled. “They’re all yours, be as greedy as you like,” he said with a magnanimous wave over the box.

“Seriously?”

“Yep.” Hux’s smile deepened.

“You don’t want one?”

“Nah,” he said, waving away the box again as if Kylo was being foolish. “I already ate. Besides, I prefer to watch you eat them.”

Kylo stopped reaching for a donut and looked up at Hux sharply. “Why?”

Hux’s eyes went round, his smile slipping away. “I just like feeding people,” he said, his voice sounding nervous. “I brought you a few things, um, that we won’t use, and I thought you might like,” he added, nudging the other bags with his foot and looking like he wanted to be somewhere else all of a sudden. Kylo could see bread and cheese, a bag of trail mix much fancier than the kind he’d been eating, and several pieces of fruit. There were more items in the other bag that he couldn’t see.

“I’m not an animal in the zoo. You don’t have to come feed me. I can go to the store myself.” Kylo’s voice held a rough edge to it. He was embarrassed. Why was this guy trying to feed him? Was Kylo some sort of weird charity case? Did the spoiled rich boy have a certain quota of pathetic losers that he had to help every month in order to earn a gold star?

Hux looked frozen to the chair. Maybe he thought Kylo was going to freak out and maul him. Kylo wouldn’t, but he couldn’t blame the guy for thinking it was a possibility.

“I just… I thought it would be nice to share some of this stuff,” Hux said, eyes snapping up to Kylo’s. “I always buy way too much and I thought maybe you could use it and I wanted to share.” Hux was talking fast, his eyes still wide. “I didn’t mean anything weird by it. I’ve been sharing food with other people too, so, you shouldn’t feel singled out or anything.” Hux visibly winced and then stopped talking.

Kylo looked down at the bags, then up at Hux’s nervous face. “Okay, thank you. I appreciate it.”

Hux looked at him. “Really? It’s okay?”

“Yeah, thanks,” Kylo said, heaving a deep breath in. “I don’t get many people, um, offering me bags of free food. Sorry if I seemed ungrateful.”

“No, no, I get it,” Hux said, breathing out and relaxing a bit. He gripped his mug and took another sip, seemingly glad his throat was still intact. Hux kept a careful eye on him, watching his movements as Kylo ate another donut.

Kylo was feeling bad now. He shouldn’t have questioned Hux’s motives like that. He just knew from experience that anything that seemed too good to be true always was.

* * *

He let Phasma hug him when she got back.

It wasn’t their normal thing, but she wanted to, and he allowed it. His head fit perfectly on her shoulder and she only let him go when he pulled back and grunted. She told him to get the glasses as she ripped the plastic off the neck of the weekly sale wine. They sat and talked late into the evening. Phas told him that she had gone on a date, but that it had actually been pretty boring.

“He said, and I quote, ‘I’m okay with you being taller than me, so long as you don’t wear high heels when we go out.’”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yeah, but he also had to buy me the most expensive thing on the menu, and he did _not_ get invited up for coffee afterwards,” she explained, shaking her head at the memory. “Too bad, he was cute. But, hey, no just _‘being okay’_ allowed, right? I mean, who wouldn’t want to worship at this altar?” she asked, waving a hand up and down over her body. Kylo snorted.

“The nerve of that guy,” he smiled, pouring another glass of wine. He pulled out the fancy trail mix and offered her the small amount that was left.

“Oh wow! Dried pineapple and macadamia nuts? Where did you get such a sinful bag of trail mix? Did you sell your body? You did, didn’t you?”

“Hux brought it over,” Kylo shrugged. “Didn’t even have to take off my shirt.”

Phasma laughed. “Hux, huh?” she asked, shaking her head. She was pinching her lips together like she was trying not to say something but really wanted to. Kylo ignored her.

“I may have been rude about it at first.”

“What? _Why?_ God, Kylo, what is _wrong_ with you?”

“You want an itemized list?”

“No, no. Ugh. Just tell me what happened.”

Kylo sighed and told her. She laughed until she knocked her wine over, swore a bit, and finally called it a night.

Kylo was glad she was back.

* * *

Hux was in the third row the next day when Kylo killed Phasma. He was all decked out as an Elf, and some of the crowd were watching him more than the show, but it still went well and they got an excited round of applause at the end.

“That looked _real,_ ” Hux said afterward. “Phasma, your death scream is bloodcurdling.”

“Right?” she said, pleased with herself. Hux was behind the stage with them, looking over all the props, and chatting with Phasma about the fight choreography, while Kylo packed up the gear. He realized he was still wearing his helmet, and pulled it off with a groan. It was a warm day, and he didn’t need that bucket on his head a moment longer than necessary. He tied his sweaty hair back, letting a thick fall of it escape and cover his scars.

He looked over at Phasma and Hux when he noticed that their conversation had stopped. Phasma was peeking around the stage to see how Mitaka was doing with the hat pass and making sure no one was trying to either seduce him or steal their tips. Both had happened in the past.

Hux was looking at Kylo with half-lidded eyes, his thoughts obviously far away. Phasma turned back, looked between Kylo and Hux, and shook her head. “Come on, Elrond,” she snorted, elbowing the Elf. “Let’s go get a drink.”

Mitaka stumbled back with the tips and Phasma snatched the hat, grabbing out several one dollar bills. Hux studied Mitaka, looking at the way he gazed up at Phasma. The Elf gave a small smile and shook his head, snorting, as if laughing at himself. His green eyes flicked over at Kylo. then dropped when he saw the knight staring at him.

Kylo and Phasma took off for the tavern and Hux followed.

“Wait,” he said, looking back at the forlorn figure by the gear. “What about Mitaka?”

Phasma and Kylo looked at each other, then back at their tiny friend. “What about him?” Phasma asked.

“Shouldn’t he be coming too?”

Phasma and Kylo stared at Hux like he had grown a second Elven head.

“He watches the baggage,” she said simply.

“Oh, okay,” Hux said, throwing one last look at the small man by the gear. Mitaka shrugged as if to say, ‘you tried.’

Kylo and Phasma both got a beer, and Phasma insisted on buying Hux something too, so he got a glass of mead, and they all settled down at an outside table.

“Where are the rest of the Elves?” Phasma asked, taking a sip of her dark brew and heaving a grateful sigh.

“They’re around here somewhere,” Hux answered, glancing over his shoulder as if he might catch sight of them. “This place is huge. If we don’t make plans to meet up, I spend forever looking for them. I still can’t find a place to stick my cell phone in this costume.”

“In your corset,” Phasma said, getting _that_ look in her eye.

“No room,” Hux laughed. To illustrate, he stuck two fingers in at the top of the corset where it was constricting his ribs. His slim fingers turned white where the blood cut off.

“Good lord,” Phasma groaned. “How tight _is_ that thing?”

Hux shrugged. “I like it this way. But yeah, no cell phone. Which means I lose the troupe all the time. Not very professional of me,” he said with a smirk.

They finished their drinks, Hux sliding the majority of his over to Phasma to finish off. “The less I have to pee in this getup, the better,” he explained. Then he wandered off in search of his Elves and Phasma and Kylo went back to haul the gear to the next stage.

* * *

Leia had come looking for Kylo two months after he’d joined Phasma’s camp. It had taken the frantic mother that long to track him down, several states away from the last faire,  her face sick with worry when she finally managed to find Phasma.

Phasma had known Kylo ( _Ben_ back then), teaching him to fight for about a month before the tragedy. He was three years younger than her, but had been eager to learn. He bought her lunch as a thank you for training him and hauled in packages of junk food to share. She liked the kid.

She hadn’t expected to become his whole world.

“He’s safe,” Phasma reassured the tiny woman, marveling for a moment at how the small creature could have produced such a tall son. Even at fifteen, Kylo showed the potential to grow into a giant.

Leia’s face had crumpled and she nodded. “I want to see him,” she said. “Just to make sure. It’s not that I don’t trust you, I do. Before… he talked about you, talked about learning to do this,” she gestured at the whole of the faire, “and his face would just light up.” She was close to tears by then, still holding it together, but just barely.

“If it was up to me,” Phasma had said, “I would go get him right now and have you take him home. I know he needs you.” She took a deep breath. Even as a teenager she’d been able to read Kylo. “But he also needs to heal. He’s really… broken. I think this environment is good for him right now. No one really knows his story. And with his face,” Leia winced and Phasma continued gently, “with his face, he blends in better here. He can hide in plain sight. If he went home with you… I don’t think he’d ever leave his room. At least here he’s working. He’s performing.”

Leia had nodded, eyes squinting up against unshed tears. “Okay,” she said, “Okay.”

Phasma put one large hand on the heartbroken woman’s shoulder. “Why don’t you come watch the next performance? Just don’t let him see you, alright? I don’t think that would be good for him right now.”

Leia nodded.

During the afternoon performance, Kylo did a good job with their simple routine. He spoke his lines clearly and died like a champ, standing up to the applause and bowing theatrically afterwards.

If Leia was there, Phasma didn’t see her.

* * *

“I can’t find security!” Rebecca came panting up to Phasma and Kylo as they sat in the shade after finishing their last Sunday performance. The Elf’s face was red and panicked and she looked like she was about to cry.

The weekend had been especially busy, and Sunday had been insane. There was a crush of people everywhere. Not only was the weather good, but the faire had offered a special for the weekend and held a huge wine and beer tasting at a discount. All the performers had been busy dodging handsy guests and politely accepting phone numbers that ended up in the trash.

Kylo hadn’t seen any of the Elves. He’d been too focused on hiding behind stages or out in the far practice field, talking with Rey and petting the horses in between performances. For a moment he was surprised that Rebecca had known where to find them, but she and Phasma were close, and she probably knew their stage schedule.

“What’s the matter?” Phasma asked as they both jumped to their feet, Mitaka coming around the side of the stage just then to see what the shouting was about.

“They’re going to hurt him!” Rebecca said, shaking and gesturing wildly behind her.

“Where?” Phasma asked, and then they were all moving, running after a stumbling Rebecca. She took them back past the archery range and then stopped in her tracks in the middle of a field.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” she said. “They were _right here.”_ She turned around in a circle. “Hux!” she shouted. “Where are you?”

Phasma turned back to Mitaka and nodded. The small man took off, running back the way they came, intent on locating security.

“Hux!” Rebecca called again, turning in another circle, as if she’d just overlooked him the first time. She was starting to cry in earnest now, gasping and sobbing, still calling out her friend’s name.

“What happened?” Phasma asked, taking Rebecca’s shoulders and speaking gently but firmly to her, the way she did for Kylo when he was panicking.

“Some guys,” Rebecca said. “They were following us for awhile, and we were trying to cut through the field and make it back to camp without them seeing us. But they did, and they grabbed Hux. I got away, but then I couldn’t find anyone to help. Your stage was close so… Oh _god,_ I was just gone for a few minutes! Where is he?”

Her panic was mounting again and Phasma was trying to calm her down. Just then something caught Kylo’s eye beyond the treeline on the other side of the field. He squinted at it until he saw what it must be, and took off running towards the shape.

He crashed through the outer layer of trees and underbrush, coming to a stop before a still form leaning against a tree trunk. Falling to his knees, Kylo instinctively reached out to touch the figure, but then pulled back.

“Hux,” he said softly. The green eyes were open, staring at his face, but they were glassy, his expression unnaturally calm. “Are you hurt?”

Hux shrugged, the movement tiny and quick.

“Did they-” Kylo swallowed, letting his eyes fall down Hux’s body, looking for any evidence that he’d been injured or-

“No,” Hux said, and his voice was strong and clear. He looked angry rather than scared. “I fought them off,” he continued firmly, his eyes flashing as if he wanted to keep fighting.

Relieved, Kylo looked him over again. He was sitting completely still, his hands gripped around his waist in a strange way. His back was pushed up against the tree trunk, and except for a few beads of sweat and a leaf caught in the long strands of his wig, he looked like he always did in costume.

Rebecca and Phasma crashed up behind him, the brunette Elf giving a small cry at the sight of her friend on the ground.

“He’s okay,” Kylo said. Phasma nodded, and pulled Rebecca back to the edge of the field, telling her over and over that Hux was fine, that she did the right thing, and now they just needed to wait for security. Rebecca nodded and sobbed.

Kylo turned back to Hux. “You’re sure you’re alright?” he asked. Hux nodded tersely. “Then why are you doing that?” Kylo asked, motioning down at Hux’s hands where they were pushing tight against his sides.

Hux huffed an indignant sigh and shook his head. “Those idiots cut through the ties on the back of my corset,” Hux bit out, seeming to be more upset over that then the fact that he had been attacked.

“Did they cut you?” Kylo looked for blood, his own pulse creeping up again to thrum painfully in his head.

“No,” Hux barked out. He seemed embarrassed.

“Can you stand?” Kylo asked. Hux scowled.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Do you want to? Or do you want to wait for security?”

“Of course I want to stand up!” Hux whisper-shouted, his eyes going over to Phasma and Rebecca, making sure they hadn’t heard. “But, the corset is cut.”

Kylo looked at him helplessly. “You have a robe on, though,” Kylo said slowly. “You’d still be covered, even if you took the corset off.”

“But,” Hux said, suddenly looking at a loss, “I’m in costume. I can’t walk around in costume without the corset. I _can’t,”_ he said firmly. For the first time since Kylo had found him, Hux was starting to panic. Kylo wondered if it was delayed shock.

“Okay, okay, no problem,” Kylo said, splaying his fingers to placate the seething Elf. Behind him, Phasma was calling out to someone across the field. Kylo turned to see the fluorescent vests of two security workers striding toward them with Mitaka in tow. Hux’s breathing hitched up when he saw them, his panicked eyes looking back at Kylo. “Lean forward,” Kylo said. Hux searched his face for a moment, then did as he had been asked.

Kylo studied the laces that held the garment together and saw that someone had tried to rip the knot open before just cutting through it with a knife. If he pulled the laces back through the cloth eyelets and tied them off with the excess length, the corset ought to hold together long enough for Hux to get back to camp.

“This is what we’re going to do,” Kylo said, letting Hux lean back against the tree. ‘We’re going to let security talk to you and see this,” Kylo said, indicating Hux’s back, “and we’ll take a picture with Rebecca’s phone. Then we’ll re-lace you, and get you back to camp. It will look like nothing’s wrong, okay?”

Hux nodded, giving Kylo a tense but grateful look as the security guys made it over to him and started asking questions.

* * *

They were all sitting in the yurt in the folding chairs, trying not to drive Hux crazy. He was clearly worn out from earlier, but he was refusing to admit it, blinking heavily, his lashes casting shadows under his already dark eyes.

Kylo thought that the best thing for Hux would be to get some sleep, and his eyes wandered over to the bed in the corner. Among the bedding, he could see the sleeve of the sweatshirt he had returned to Hux last week poking out from under the pillows. He stared at it, wondering why it was there. The tent was so organized, it seemed out of place. Kylo looked up in time to see Hux glance over where he was looking and freeze. He shot a guilty look at Kylo before dropping his eyes.

Phasma had taken off after making sure Hux and Rebecca had made it back to camp. Kylo had stayed to explain what had happened so that Hux didn’t have to. He’d ended up bundled into the tent with everyone else when the sun went down, no one in the mood to sit around the fire outside. The Elves seemed intent on protecting Hux, and Hux seemed just as intent on coming across as not needing their protection.

When they had first struggled back to the Elven camp, Rebecca had helped Hux out of the hastily patched up corset in the tent, while Kylo had talked with the others outside, telling them the story as far as he understood it.

He’d listened intently as Hux had talked to security, thinking that if he knew the attackers or could find them, he would pay them a visit. Hux had been vague on what his attackers looked like, and Kylo saw Rebecca scrunching up her face in confusion. She was able to give a much clearer picture of the men.

There had been three of them, dressed in street clothes, clearly drunk. They had been tailing Rebecca and Hux for a while before one of them tried to talk to Hux, stroking his arm and grabbing for his hand. Hux had scoffed at him and told him to keep his hands to himself. The man had gotten angry and grabbed Hux’s arm, but his friends had come and pulled the guy away before he did anything else.

They hadn’t left though, and Rebecca said that she and Hux had tried to get to the other side of the faire and get lost in the crowd, but that she saw them following. She also said that they were drinking the whole time, taking hits out of a flask. She and Hux waited until they thought they’d given the guys the slip and hurried across the field behind the archery booth, hoping to cut back to camp that way.

The men had fenced them in, one in front and two coming up behind. They seemed intent mainly on Hux, the same guy as before grabbing him again, and Rebecca was able to get away. Hux called after her to get security and she turned just once to see him biting into the hand around his wrist and kicking at somebody's crotch.

Hux’s story wasn’t as clear after that. He just said that he’d fought them off after they cut his corset lacings, and then Kylo had found him. He clearly didn’t want to talk about it.

Kylo walked with Rebecca to the fire pit about an hour after nightfall, helping her and Beer Guy get a fire going so that everyone could eat. Trail mix and string cheese were not enough after all the stress everyone was under. No one said it out loud, but they all knew the assault could have ended so much worse. As grateful as everyone was that Hux and Rebecca were alright, they were shaken and jittery, looking over their shoulders at shadows.

Kylo whittled some sticks for cooking hot dogs as Rebecca and Beer Guy got out plates and hauled out the coolers of food. Rebecca sat down next to Kylo, stabbing the hot dogs on the sticks and propping them up to cook. Beer Guy went back to the yurt for the condiments.

“They said the most horrible things to him,” Rebecca whispered. Kylo peered over at her around his hair. He was still half in costume, not having gone back to his campsite yet to change. “That was the worst part. The things they said.” She shook her head, as if trying to get the words out of her mind. “At first, the one guy was sort of complimenting us, mainly Hux, calling him stunning and all. Then he said that Hux was more beautiful than any girl he’d ever seen. That’s when he tried to hold his hand.”

Rebecca rolled her eyes. Kylo breathed in sharply, but grunted for her to continue.

“Later in the field, they said things about his body. Said they wanted to see if he was really that thin with his clothes off, or if it was all some sort of illusion. They called him a freak,” she closed her eyes at the memory. “Who knows _what_ they said while I was gone.” She buried her face in her hands. “I shouldn’t have left him. What if they’d… if they’d managed to…”

“You did the right thing,” Kylo reassured her. “You couldn’t take on three guys by yourself. You followed Hux’s instructions and got help.”

She sighed. “Yeah. I still feel like shit.”

“I get it. But he’s safe, okay?”

“Okay,” she said, going back to the fire to turn the sticks over the flames.

Kylo hoped she didn’t notice how badly his hands were shaking.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Attempted assault, though the character gets away. The assault is not done by any of the main characters.


	8. Chapter 8

Kylo woke up before dawn on Monday morning, his chest pounding. He was half sitting up before he was fully conscious, his hands out, searching for something in the empty space. Abruptly, he remembered where he was. The familiar shape and scent of his tent surrounded him, the army blanket scratched under his forearm as he shifted, sweaty and achy, in the half-light.

He remembered stumbling back to camp late last night, after the Elves had finally agreed to go to bed. Hux had still been awake when Kylo left, blinking stubbornly against his exhaustion. Kylo had realized that Hux would only get into bed - only make himself vulnerable - when he was alone. As much as his friends gave him comfort and protection, what he really needed was time to process what had happened, and he wasn’t allowing himself to do that with the others fawning and fussing over him. Kylo had left, making sure all the Elves, except Rebecca, who was petting Hux's hair and seemed to be a welcome presence, went back to their own tents.

He was still dressed in the black clothes he wore under his armor, the sweat dried to him, making salty patterns on the dark fabric. Sighing, he heaved himself up and grabbed clean clothes along with his soap, shampoo, and toothbrush, and headed for the showers.

No longer smelling like camp smoke and sweat, Kylo carried his stuff back to his tent and then headed over to the Elven camp. No one was moving yet, the sun just starting to rise and the pine needles underfoot damp with dew. Kylo started a fire as quietly as possible, finding a large kettle and filling it with filtered water from one of the gallon jugs on the picnic table. After setting that to boil over the flames, he hunted around in a plastic bin and came up with a press pot and a thermos. In another bin he found coffee, sugar, and creamer.

It took three press pots to fill up the thermos, which he set on the table next to the pile of coffee mugs. Kylo made one more pot for himself, stole someone's cup from the clean dish pile, and sat down by the fire to play with his phone. It only took five minutes for the first rumpled head to appear, sniffing at camp smoke and coffee. Slowly the chairs filled up with slender Elves wrapped in blankets, looking mussed and sleepy in the early morning light and nothing like their ethereal alter egos.

Rebecca gave him a sleepy smile as she passed him on the way to get coffee, squeezing his shoulder as she walked by. He tried not to flinch away. Hux materialized in the chair to his left not long after that, dressed in clean clothes, his hair damp from the shower. The redhead sipped at a mug of coffee and made a pleased sound.

“You made the coffee?” he asked Kylo, lifting his mug.

“Yeah.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

They lapsed into silence after that, some of the other Elves puttering around and getting a meal started. Kylo studied Hux in the morning light. He still had dark circles under his eyes, though he’d lost his look of utter exhaustion. The soft light revealed just how pale he was, highlighting his eyelashes and freckles, his slim collarbones pressing up beneath the skin at the dip of his shirt, delicate and sharp.

Kylo wanted to ask how he was. If he had slept. If he had dreamt bad dreams. He wanted to ask what he could do to help. Instead, he snuck glances over at him, noting his expressions. He watched him accept a plate of food and eat two bites, pushing everything else around with his fork. Kylo ate his own food in silence, keeping his face angled away as he chewed.

It became routine for the rest of the week for Kylo to make coffee at the Elf camp. The actors woke up soon after he got there and made breakfast, handing him a full plate without being asked. Afterwards, Kylo would go out to the far practice field, talk to Rey if she was there, and run through his routine. He worked on some new moves and Googled sword fights in famous movies for ideas. If he had extra energy, he’d go running on the forest trails in the afternoon, or else he’d find a place to sprawl out and read. In the evenings he headed back to the Elven camp to build the fire for cooking and whittle roasting sticks if they were needed. Then he would sit down with a beer and wait to be fed.

He made mental notes of what to get at the store to help replenish the food that he was consuming at a far greater rate than the slender actors. He planned to get beer and coffee. Maybe some snacks that didn’t need to be refrigerated. That way he could show up with something each day and it wouldn’t look like he’d purposefully bought them groceries.

The first time since running away from home, Kylo felt accepted by people other than Phasma. The Elves took his presence among them as natural. No one ever seemed irritated or annoyed that a dark, hulking form was now taking up one of their camping chairs each morning and evening. They greeted him with smiles, and eventually started joking around with him. Kylo didn’t understand why they seemed alright with his brooding presence, but since he was actually sleeping and eating on a regular schedule for the first time in years due to the new routine with them, he decided not to question it.

When Phasma got back Thursday evening, he was waiting for her, already showered and dressed after his run that afternoon, ready to go over to the other camp. She handed him the bag of groceries he’d requested and he forked over a wad of bills.

“Nope, your money’s no good here,” she said. Kylo kept holding the money out and giving her _that_ look until she relented and slipped the money into the fabric pencil case she used as a wallet. “Fine, but I’m just going to spend this on you anyway,” she grumbled.

They walked over together, Kylo carrying a twelve pack of craft beer, Phasma hauling all the makings for s’mores in a shopping bag. Dropping everything on the picnic table, they found seats around the fire pit, and took handfuls of chips as Snack Girl passed a bag around.

Hux was already there, groomed and immaculate as always, though his expression looked pinched. Kylo wasn’t sitting as close to Hux as he would have liked, but at least he could see him from his spot next to Phasma. There was a wrinkle on Hux’s forehead where his eyebrows were drawn together, and his mouth was pulled down at the corners.

Phasma and Rebecca had their heads together, murmuring quietly about Hux. Kylo listened to as much of the conversation as he could over everyone else’s talking and laughing.

“...worried about him,” Rebecca said. “It’s too soon… the costume… worried about it triggering him…”

Phasma’s voice, slightly easier to catch: “Have you suggested that he take the weekend off? He shouldn’t feel like he has to dress up again so soon. He doesn’t look like himself. He looks off.”

“I know,” Rebecca sighed, quieter than Phasma. “...won’t… stubborn… says if we are than he is…”

The Elf sitting next to Hux got up suddenly, going to get some more food, and before Kylo could think about it, he was stealing the guy’s seat and looking over at Hux’s drained face.

“Are they pressuring you to take time off?” Kylo asked.

“Yes,” Hux answered, looking Kylo over like he wondered what his angle was.

“Do you want to?”

“No. I don’t.”

“Then don’t,” Kylo responded. “Do you need me to tell them to lay off?”

Hux gave a tired snort. “No. I’ve been looking daggers at them since breakfast. I think it’s had some effect.”

Kylo smiled. Then his face dropped and he felt suddenly unsure. “Do you,” he fumbled with his beer, picking at his nails. “Do you want me to come make coffee for you guys tomorrow, or…” he trailed off.

Hux looked at him from the corner of his eyes. He took a slow sip from his water bottle. “Routine is a good thing,” he said. “And your coffee is a lot better than Rebecca’s.” Both their glances shot over to where Rebecca was sitting, completely oblivious to Hux dragging her name through the mud, her hands gesturing wildly as she told Phasma a story. Hux looked back at Kylo, and a smile slipped over his features, transforming his face into something bright and alive before he turned back to look at the fire again.

“Alright,” Kylo mumbled.

 

* * *

 

 

The following morning was faster-paced than the lazy weekdays had been. Friday meant full costumes for everyone; physical exertion for the fighters and a return to character for the Elves.

Kylo made coffee around dawn, the Elves already bustling back and forth to the showers and throwing together a hasty breakfast of mostly instant food. Rebecca tossed Kylo a granola bar and a few apples as she hurried by on her way to the yurt to get dressed. Kylo ate and made more coffee as the thermos emptied at a much greater rate than on weekdays.

Hux was the first one to emerge, completely in costume, standing next to Kylo as the knight made yet another press pot of coffee, offering the redhead a fresh cup. Hux took it black, and sipped quietly while his hawk-like eyes scanned each Elf as they approached. He sent Beer Guy back to the yurt to fix what Hux called a lazy makeup job, though to Kylo’s eyes he looked like he always did.

Once all the Elves were assembled and Hux-approved, they ran through a warm up exercise that included a chant in a foreign language. “Elvish,” Rebecca whispered in response to Kylo’s puzzled face. She scrunched her nose up and gave a small snort at the look of incredulity Kylo shot her.

The group ran through a few more phrases in the same lilting speech, the words sounding like a some form of greeting. Kylo imagined they were going over the common phrases they used while in character. He marveled at the way the troupe went from the normal collection of people he knew from around the fire, laughing and completely human, to otherworldly Elves in a matter of moments as the warm up continued.

Kylo wandered back to his own camp afterwards to make even more coffee, this time for Phasma, and started getting ready for the first show of the day. The Elves had started work as soon as the faire opened, but he and Phasma had the luxury of a bit more time before they needed to be in character for their act.

Mitaka arrived and asked about Hux and Rebecca. Kylo couldn’t help smiling fondly down at the smaller man, though he tried to hide his soft expression with a scowl. He pondered over how worried Mitaka always was about their safety during the fights, and how devastated he’d seemed when he learned Hux had been stalked and attacked. Yet he’d acted quickly, running for help and coming back swiftly and efficiently, waiting patiently to do all he could for anyone that needed him. Kylo wanted to clap a hand on Mitaka’s tiny shoulder and shake it in thanks, but he refrained.

“They’re both fine,” he said. Mitaka nodded.

“I restocked the first aid kit,” Mitaka offered. Kylo couldn’t help the corner of his mouth turning up.

 

* * *

 

It was right before the last show of the day when Rebecca came running behind the stage, calling out to Phasma. Kylo paused with the helmet halfway up to his head, an eerie feeling of deja vu creeping over him as he looked at the Elf’s flushed face.

She ran right to Phasma and spoke urgently in her ear. The blond warrior nodded, her half-blue face darting to meet Kylo’s gaze. “Mitaka!” she called out, and grabbed his slim arm as he came bolting back behind the stage. “We have to cancel the show. There’s trouble.” She ignored Mitaka’s shock and turned to Kylo, who was already shedding all his show equipment, dropping his helmet and cloak, following swiftly as Rebecca lead the way.

He was too numb to even ask what was happening as they ran through the lanes, cutting between shops and skirting visitors, until they finally reached a quiet lane that had nothing but an incense stand, a scarf shop, and a lot of raggedy saplings lining the dirt path.

Hux was standing, regal and unmoving, his hands clutched into fists at his sides, as an average-sized man in his late twenties faced him, talking to the Elf rapidly and with a lot of hand motions. Kylo heard the urgency in the man’s voice, though he caught very few words.

“That’s him,” Rebecca whispered to Phasma, Kylo right beside them, hearing what she said. “He hasn’t tried anything this time, but-”

Kylo was moving forward. He barely registered Phasma’s shout or the look on Hux’s face before his vision was entirely taken up by the other man, his eyes going wider the closer Kylo got. The man’s blue gaze flickered over Kylo’s right side in surprise before he was struggling and coughing against Kylo’s clenching fist. His cheeks went white, then pink, flushing quickly towards red as Kylo continued to squeeze, his large feet planted firmly on the ground and his arm stretched out easily to grasp the man by the throat. The man that had attacked Hux. The man that Kylo was going to kill.

He thought he felt someone pulling him from behind. Someone strong. His feet weren’t rooted as firmly in place as they had been, and there was another person, someone with long, slim fingers, trying to pry Kylo’s grip away from the choking man’s neck.

“...too strong,” said a voice behind him, “I can’t shift him.”

“Kylo,” said a precise voice. Brittish. Careful and over-enunciated. Commanding and calm. He heard it, though he realized that other voices had been screaming his name and he’d ignored them completely. This voice though, this voice he could hear. “Drop him.”

Kylo turned his eyes away from the purpling face in his grasp, looking for the voice. Hux was standing next to him, facing him, serene and authoritative.

“I said _drop him.”_

Though his head was currently bare, Kylo was used to seeing the world through the slits of his helmet when he fought. He knew what vision felt like when it was narrowed down to a small area of focus, and that he had to take care to fill up those slits of vision with the most important input, or he ran the risk of getting hit full force by a battle ax. Therefore he knew, as he looked at the deceivingly delicate redhead standing near him, that he was seeing him through his last remaining sight-line to reality, that Hux was the lodestone, the compass point. 

Kylo’s fingers unclenched and the man fell to his knees gasping for breath. He was trying to shimmy backwards, away from his would-be murderer, and Kylo’s eye was caught by the movement. _Hux was in danger. The man was still moving, he hadn’t been neutralized. He was still a threat._

“No,” Hux said as Kylo made a move towards the man on the ground. “Leave him.” Kylo swung his attention back to Hux, fixated on him. Hux held his gaze. “Come here,” Hux demanded, a slight curl to his lip, his eyes cold. Kylo obeyed and took a step closer as though entranced. Hux reached out his hand and clasped the back of Kylo’s neck. The knight felt a shudder rack his spine at the touch. Hux’s face softened as he pulled Kylo towards him, their foreheads resting together as they simply breathed for a few moments. “It’s alright,” he said. Kylo gave a small nod and then Hux’s face retreated, though he kept his hand on the back of Kylo’s neck, cool and firm over the flesh and vertebrae. Hux’s eyes went to someone behind Kylo, and his green eyes flicked over to the man lying prone in the sandy dirt.

It was then Kylo realized that security personnel had been waiting for him to be contained before moving in for the the gasping man. They were suddenly in action, swooping in, letting a member of staff with medical training through to check him out.

As his vision began to return, widening out from the narrow focus that was entirely taken up by Hux, Kylo registered the horrified voices and faces that had gathered around the scene of the brief altercation. There were only a dozen or so visitors standing at the end of the short lane, gaping, and one of the security workers was already convincing them to move on.

Phasma was staring at him intently, a look of worry on her face. When he met her eyes and gave a small shrug, she heaved a sigh and went to him, grabbing him as Hux’s hand fell away. “Are you alright?” she asked, checking Kylo’s face. He still felt disoriented, like he’d just woken up, all the colors and sounds too loud. He nodded at her anyway, and she huffed out something that sounded like muffled swearing. Then she turned her attention on Hux. “And you? Was this worth getting Kylo thrown in jail?”

Hux snorted. “Kylo won’t go to jail. And yes, thank you, I’m fine.”

“Is that the guy that attacked you last week?”

“Yes,” Hux replied, meeting her gaze with a frown. “I doubt he’ll be pressing charges,” Hux said much louder, as a woman in a neon vest helped the man stumble past them on the way to the first aid station. Then his focus was back on Kylo, his slender arm hooking through Kylo’s much larger one, pulling him along with him. One of the security personnel stopped them, getting their names and a brief statement and warning them that they would be following up with them after they talked with management, and then they were making their way back to the Elven camp.

Hux steered Kylo straight into the yurt, dropped him into a canvas chair, and grabbed a bottle of water for him out of the mini fridge. Kylo held the cold bottle, staring at it, until Hux gave a small huff, grabbed it out of his hands, and cracked the top off. Putting it back in Kylo’s grasp, he gave the knight an expectant gaze. When all Kylo did was stare at him, Hux rolled his eyes. “Drink,” he said. Kylo did. His head started to feel a little better.

Phasma and Rebecca came in a moment later and reported that they had texted the others and that they were heading back as well. Hux sighed but nodded. He sat next to Kylo, on his left side like always, and waited for everyone to make it back. When they were all there, seated at the makeup tables and along the side of Hux’s bed, Hux explained what had happened.

“Apparently, my attacker had no intention of adding assult to his already impressive record,” Hux began. “He was actually apologizing for his and his companion’s behavior last week. And of course, trying to justify it. It seems as though his girlfriend has recently left his charming company to find greener pastures with a leather-clad biker stereotype. While he didn’t seem particularly bereft at her departure, she took with her, not only his car and the contents of his bank account, but their two-and-a-half-year-old daughter as well.”

Hux paused to take a sip of water and gauge the effect of his words, his eyes wandering over everyone and then coming to rest on Kylo. Hux gave him a small smile before continuing.

“He was just saying that he would pay to replace my costume when you intercepted,” Hux directed at Kylo, dropping his voice and shaking his head almost fondly at the memory. “You cost me a nice cash settlement.”

Kylo would have been taken in by the calm facade if he hadn’t noticed Hux’s hands trembling.

 

* * *

 

The evening would have turned into a repeat of the previous week, with Hux pretending to be fine while everyone gathered around him for support while what he really needed was rest, except Kylo herded everyone back out of the yurt once they had their costumes hung up. Phasma was the last one out, and she turned to look Kylo carefully in the face, likely checking for signs of a meltdown. Seeming satisfied that he was holding it together, her eyes went over his shoulder to Hux. Whatever she saw made her smirk, and she gave a small nod to Hux, before turning and heading out with one last pat on Kylo’s shoulder.

He turned around as Hux heaved a huge sigh, his hands kneading the back of his neck as he stretched his head from side to side, dropping the impassive mask he’d been wearing. “Thank _god,”_ Hux said, giving a few more digs into the back of his neck before dropping his hands. “If anyone else had looked at me with doe eyes or offered me another damn blanket I would have lost it.”

Kylo relaxed at the tone of his voice. The carefully maintained persona was gone for now and Hux just seemed tired. The Elf looked down at himself and groaned. He was still in full costume. The others had worked in pairs to get out of costume and down to their - surprisingly modest - underclothes, and Hux had been overlooked in favor of being fawned over and offered items of comfort. Kylo wondered if the others sometimes forgot that Hux was human.

Hux landed on one of the stools in front of a mirror, looking back over his shoulder at Kylo, his eyes tired. “Time to ruin the magic,” he said quietly.

“I can go,” Kylo offered reluctantly.

“No!” Hux took a breath. “No,” he said more gently. “I need someone to help me get this thing off.” He gestured to the corset that was keeping him ramrod straight, even as the rest of him was trying in vain to slump over the small vanity. His green eyes darted to Kylo’s mouth and the knight realized that he was biting his bottom lip. He released it, feeling the blood flow back beneath the flesh. Hux looked up to his eyes for a moment, before turning back to the mirror.

Kylo watched in fascination as Hux transformed from Elf to human. He pulled the wig off to reveal a tight skull cap over his real hair. Kylo stared in open admiration for the way he looked just then, the pointed Elven ears still in place, the makeup still contouring his face into sharp angles. The ears followed a moment later, and then Hux was running a wipe over his face, the white square picking up the flesh tones of the makeup.

Still wearing the skull cap and with his face flushed from removing his makeup, Hux motioned Kylo over to him. He went, transfixed, and stood behind Hux, meeting his eyes in the mirror. His own reflection seemed to loom behind Hux, the black of his armor throwing the redhead’s pale face in sharp relief.

“What do you need me to do?” Kylo asked, his voice rough and pitched low. Hux’s reflected eyes continued to meet his, though his mouth had gone slightly slack and his gaze was getting glassy.

“Undo the knot in the middle of the corset and loosen the laces,” Hux replied, his eyes wandering all over Kylo in the mirror. The knight’s hands moved almost on their own, his brain refusing to process that he was, in fact, undressing Hux.

He took a moment to study the carefully tied knot that held the tight x’s of the laces in place, his eyes dropping from the mirror and his body bending over slightly so he could see. Hux was sitting on a tall stool, which helped, but Kylo still needed to hunch and lean in slightly in order to make out the knot’s construction. His fingers looked too large as he began gently pulling the knot apart, the material of the laces slick and smooth against his calloused swordsman's hands. As the knot started to come undone and the laces slipped through the eyelets with Hux’s breath, unwinding and loosening, Kylo’s eyes met Hux’s in the mirror.

Hux was staring back, his gaze unwavering, hitting Kylo like a burning lance. He was caught in Hux’s focused regard, trapped by the intense green eyes locked onto his. Kylo’s fingers were suddenly clumsy as he tore at the laces, freeing Hux’s body as quickly as he could, all thought of why he was so frantic to release him gone out of his head. Only the driving need to get Hux out of his fabric and wire cage remained. He heard Hux gasp as Kylo’s thick fingers ripped at the laces, tugging against his slim body and rocking him back on the stool with each rough pull.

This time when their eyes met, Hux’s face was flushed and his mouth was open, his eyes looking at once hungry and lost as the corset finally slipped down his torso, loose enough now for him to shimmy out of it. Hux didn’t move to stand up, however, his attention completely centered on Kylo in the mirror. The knight reached forward to pull Hux to his feet so he could slip the garment over Hux’s hips, his fingers just curling along his sides under his arms to lift him off the stool when someone called “Knock knock!” from outside and threw the flap open.

Beer Guy strode in with an armload of packages, which he dumped on Hux’s mattress. “They finally finished the alterations, Hux. The woman just dropped them off, and I thought that you’d want to look at… Oh,” he said, finally looking up and seeing them. Kylo had gone still as soon as the flap had whipped open, his fingertips barely touching Hux’s sides, his thumbs resting on the thin shoulder blades. Kylo couldn’t see Hux’s face, but whatever expression was there withered the other man where he stood. “Sorry, I uh,” Beer Guy started, and then he fled, leaving the packages scattered over Hux’s blankets.

Kylo stepped back, trying to regain control over himself. His skin was thrumming with energy from where he’d touched Hux, the feeling bringing a searing heat to the rest of his body. He backed up, breathing deeply, trying not to panic at the rough way he’d just been grabbing at Hux. His shame turned to horror as he realized he’d just reenacted Hux’s attack from last week- manhandling him in an attempt to get his costume off.

Hux turned on the stool to face him. He’d pulled the skull cap off and was running his fingers back through his copper hair, sighing as he offered Kylo a wry smile. Hux froze when he saw the panic crossing Kylo’s.

“No,” Hux said, his hand stretched out to him, not close enough to touch in the distance that separated them. “Kylo, it’s okay-” His green eyes looked young all of a sudden, large and pleading.  Kylo backed away, turning to throw open the tent flap. He heard Hux calling after him, but in a few swift strides he was over the bank surrounding the yurt and taking off through the woods at a dead run.


	9. Chapter 9

When Kylo was 19, he met a man a few years older than himself at a blacksmith’s shop. He was at a small faire, farther south than Phasma was able to travel for the weekends, so he was there alone. Kylo had noticed the man walking around the grounds, but he talked to him for the first time when he went in to have his daggers sharpened for his knife throwing stunt. He was a one-man-act without Phasma, and he’d been working on his target skills, trying to get them perfect before he performed for the crowds.

The man was tall, though not quite as tall or broad as Kylo, with light-brown hair cut short. His ears were gauged and his skin was bright with tattoos. He’d taken Kylo into the back of his shop, where it smelled like fire and metal and the ever-present waft of incense from outside, and sharpened and shaped the blades of Kylo’s daggers to ensure they stuck fast in the targets. He watched Kylo throw them a few times into the shop wall, taking them back and readjusting the point slightly, until they stuck fast in the timber. He complimented Kylo on his skills, his eyes dropping down to Kylo’s thighs and then slowly trailing back up, leaving an invisible line of heat Kylo could physically feel. Kylo had paid quickly and left the shop to run through his routine, over and over again, until it was ingrained in his muscles.

He’d thought about the blacksmith later that night, alone and too warm in his tent, wondering what it would be like to kiss someone that attractive. Kylo had yet to discover what sort of person drew his interest, mostly because he couldn’t imagine being anyone else’s type, and therefore he viewed it as a masochistic exercise to seek out others for _anything,_ let alone sex. But there had been something about the blacksmith’s straightforward gaze and the way he hadn’t turned aside from Kylo’s scars or stared at them. It was as if he’d seen the scars and they had failed to interest him. When he’d watched Kylo’s form as he threw the daggers, there was something more than curiosity in his gaze.

Kylo imagined what it would be like to grip those inked shoulders while he bit at the man’s pierced ears and lips. His fantasy didn’t get much more specific than that as he worked himself to completion in the dark interior of his tent, but the thought of a specific person, of _contact,_ skin on skin, made for a white-hot orgasm that left him lying limp and blissed-out as he sprawled over his sleeping bag afterwards.

The next night, Kylo went swimming in the dark lake he visited every few days, both to beat the heat and because there weren’t any proper shower facilities at the tiny faire. He was headed back to his camp, wearing a pair of running shorts and a faded band t-shirt that Phasma had gotten him at a concert several years before, his damp hair pushed behind his ears, when he saw the blacksmith. He had a towel over his shoulder, clearly heading for the lake. Kylo could just make him out in the moonlight, the soft white glow picking out his features dimly, his tattoos looking like deeper shadows on his skin.

Kylo headed back to the lake with him, each man watching the other strip out of their clothing, tossing the garments onto the shore. They swam for a bit, laughing about the faire managers and complaining about the lack of proper facilities and attendance numbers. The blacksmith shop wasn’t bringing in much money, and Kylo was barely making enough in contributions to feed himself.

They were walking back down the path, dressed except for their shirts, when the tattooed man stepped into Kylo’s space and pushed him back against one of the large trees that lined the dirt trail. He ran his rough hands up Kylo’s bare arms, watching him closely. When he swept his hands over Kylo’s chest, brushing over his nipples, Kylo’s head dropped back against the tree trunk and he moaned. The man made an appreciative noise, smiling, and sank to his knees in the soft earth, tugging down Kylo’s shorts and taking him into his mouth.

Kylo learned a lot during the three weeks they were at the small faire together, though he never did get his first kiss. He learned how to give a blowjob and how to finger a man, though they never had penetrative sex. Instead, they met up swimming and then touched each other in the woods, away from prying eyes and ears. The one time the blacksmith had taken them both in his hand at once - sliding them together as he jerked them off, their solid chests brushing, breathing hard on one another’s necks rather than kissing - was the most intimate moment they shared.

The next day, the blacksmith shop was empty. Kylo looked around with a sputtering burst of hope, but he didn’t find a note with a phone number left for him. They may not have been much in the scheme of things, but the blacksmith was the first person who had ever shown that kind of interest in him. Who had touched him with soft urgency. Who had put his mouth on his skin. He’d never so much as mentioned the scars.

Kylo checked the blacksmith shops at every faire for years after that, finally giving up when he convinced himself that he was getting too stuck in something that had happened in the past. He shrugged when he heard that the small faire where he’d met the blacksmith had gone bankrupt and closed down. There was nothing there anymore but an empty lake, drifting cold and black under the stars.

 

* * *

  

It wasn’t until Kylo was sweating and chafing in the armor that he stopped his mad dash down a random trail he’d picked up after leaving the Elven camp, sucking in lungfuls of air and trying to steady himself. In his panic, he briefly considered packing up and moving on to a different faire. Though that would mean leaving Phasma high and dry for the remainder of this one. He huffed and wiped sweat out of his eyes. He couldn’t do that to her.

It took him a few minutes of wandering the trails before he got his bearings. He’d only made it a couple of miles outside the campgrounds, the armor weighing him down enough to keep him from getting too far out into the woods before he came to his senses. It was dark by the time he stumbled into the ring of light in his own camp, peeling off the pieces of armor that he wasn’t already carrying in his hands, dropping the whole pile on top of the duffle bags by Phasma’s tent.

“Phas,” he called, assuming she was nearby because of the fire, “can we open the wine?” He was down to his bare feet, standing in just his black pants and tunic before he realized she hadn’t answered. Looking up sharply, he swung his head toward the fire. Hux was sitting in one of the camping chairs, gazing at him warily. They both remained still as they watched one another.

Kylo was just about to take off down the path again, desperate to get away, when Hux spoke. “He started crying,” he said. Kylo looked at him, swallowing and trying not to descend immediately into panic. “Last week,” Hux explained. “In the field. That’s why they stopped attacking me.” Hux’s voice was smooth, though the hand that plucked at the edge of his sweater trembled slightly. “I didn’t fight them off, not really. I wouldn’t have been able to, no matter how much I kicked and scratched and bit. They each weighed at least forty pounds more than me and there were three of them. I may have held them off for a while, but…” he shrugged. Cautiously, Kylo approached him, slipping into the chair furthest away.

“He started crying?” Kylo asked, quietly.

Hux nodded. “Yes. I believe it was just after he called me a whore.” Kylo tensed at that, his hands curling into fists. “He said all whores deserved what they got, then he pulled the knife on me and cut the corset laces. They didn’t get any farther than that, because he started bawling about his kid.” Hux shrugged. “Thank god, because they had me back in the trees at that point and could have done anything they wanted to me. I think it finally dawned on the other two what was really happening and, well, jail must have seemed unappealing enough to dissuade them from my… _charms._ So they dropped me like a sack of garbage, grabbed their crying friend, and took off.”

“I was going to kill him.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, staring at the fire. After a few minutes of hesitation, Kylo snuck into Phasma’s tent and found the bargain wine and two cups. He filled one for himself and poured an inch in the other for Hux. The redhead snorted when he saw his cup but gave Kylo a smile.

“I’m sorry,” Kylo said. “For earlier. In the yurt.”

“You mean for running away?” Hux asked, a slight grin twisting the corner of his mouth. “You _should_ apologize for that. I was not happy.”

Kylo groaned in frustration. “No, not for leaving. For trying to grab you and…” Kylo cut himself off and rubbed a hand over his face.

“...and?” Hux prompted.

“And treat you like those assholes were treating you. Those same fucks I wanted to hack to pieces, and there I was, grabbing at you when all you wanted was help with your costume.” Kylo’s face was burning, his embarrassment throbbing under his skin.

Hux’s mouth dropped open. “You thought I was _upset_ about what you were doing?” Kylo shrugged miserably and tried to look at the fire instead of Hux. The redhead mumbled to himself and then sighed heavily. “Kylo, I’m not mad at you. At all. Okay?” He leaned forward when Kylo didn’t answer. “Okay?” he asked again. Kylo nodded once, still wishing he could run away. “Listen,” Hux continued. “If I ever want you to stop doing something, anything at all, I’ll just _tell_ you, alright? No guessing game. I’ll just say _stop._ Then you stop. And everything’s fine. Got that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Hux took a sip from his cup and made a face. “This wine is terrible.”

“It was eight bucks for a gallon at the grocery store.”

Hux raised and eyebrow. “That would explain it. I’ll bring my own next time.” He took another sip. “Oh _god,_ no. Second try’s not an improvement. Here, take this back,” he said, getting up and pouring his wine into Kylo’s cup, pulling a very dramatic face.

Kylo just smiled and downed the wine in one go. “It’s really not that bad,” he smirked.

Hux looked down at him in sheer disbelief. “How can you make such good coffee but have no idea that your wine is essentially vinegar with sugar added? Something is clearly wrong with you.”

“I keep offering to write Phasma a list. So far, she hasn’t taken me up on it.”

Hux snorted again and started chuckling, his nose crinkling up and his whole face transforming, lighting up and making Kylo’s chest ache.  Hux flipped the ends of his red hair out of his eyes where it had slid forward. Kylo noted that it was loose and soft tonight. Hux must have come to the camp right after getting changed.

“How long have you been waiting here?”

Hux sighed and sat down in the chair next to Kylo. It took him a moment to realize why it felt strange. Hux was on his right, facing his scarred side. Kylo wondered for a moment why he didn’t feel more uncomfortable.

“I walked over after taking a shower,” Hux replied, running his hand through his soft hair as though he’d just realized it wasn’t gelled and feeling embarrassed about it. He tried tucking it behind his ears, but it kept slipping back into his eyes. “Phasma and I talked for a few minutes. Then she took off for my camp on the odd chance that you might show up there again. But I knew my best chance of seeing you was waiting here.”

Hux was leaning on the arm of the camping chair, his green eyes dark in the firelight, searching Kylo’s face. Instinctively, Kylo tilted his head to make his hair fall more effectively over the right side of his face, peering back at Hux through the thick strands. Hux shook his head a little and leaned back, knitting his fingers in the air above his chest, his elbows propped up on the arm rests. He stared back at the fire.

“I know something of hiding,” Hux said slowly. “Of what it feels like to hide from the world.”

Kylo gave a puzzled frown. “You mean, because your dad is famous?”

Hux huffed. “Well, yes. That too.”

They sat in silence after that, staring at the fire and at the stars overhead. People at a nearby campsite were laughing and talking, the words indistinct but lively. The wood slid and popped in the fire pit, sending dozens of tiny red sparks up to the sky in a mini tornado.

“We’re having a movie night tomorrow after the faire,” Hux said at last, stirring himself from whatever reverie he’d fallen into. “I already asked Phasma. She promised you’d both come. We’re driving into town around seven to get food, then the movie’s at nine.”

Kylo squirmed in his seat. “I, um.” He never went into town if he could help it. Any town. He went to the laundromat and the grocery store when he had to, but a restaurant and a movie theater where completely different. He would be stared at. And people always asked about the scars. Kylo didn’t want to embarrass himself, yet _again,_ in front of Hux.

“Please?” Hux leveled a smile at him and Kylo could feel his will melting away like wax. “Promise to at least walk over with Phasma. If you’re really not in the mood to come along, we’ll understand.”

Kylo sighed. He wouldn’t go, but he didn’t want to tell Hux that, not with that look on his pale face, golden from the firelight. “Okay, I’ll come over with Phas.”

“Good,” Hux said, smiling some slow, private smile.

 

* * *

 

They arrived the next evening at the Elven camp just after dark. Kylo was slightly achy from a day of battling Phasma and her damned heavy axe. She’d been rough on him, swinging almost angrily. When he’d asked her what was wrong, she had just shaken her head and refused to talk about it.

The whole site was dark, the fire unlit. Rebecca appeared down the opposite path swinging a flashlight. “Hey!” she greeted them. “So, Hux is awesome and is _paying_ for us to go out. We’re going to the wing place and I cannot express how much I need hot sauce and french fries right now.”

Kylo shifted uncomfortably. “I, um, I don’t-”

“Oh no, not you,” Rebecca said, turning her smile on Kylo and giving him a little punch in the shoulder. “Wow, you are really solid. Anyhow, no, sorry, only Phas is invited.” She laughed as Kylo’s face fell. “Not my idea to exclude you,” she giggled. “Boss man wants to talk to you.”

Phasma was on the verge of defending Kylo’s right to chicken wings, when she paused and widened her eyes, first at Rebecca and then at Kylo. Rebecca was grinning a mile wide. Phasma slowly turned to her. “O-kaaay,” she agreed, lifting her eyebrow at Rebecca, who winked back. “Oh! Okay!” Phasma said, catching something from Rebecca’s expression that Kylo completely missed. “Bye, buddy! Have fun,” Phasma called out as Rebecca dragged her away toward the waiting vehicle.

“He’s in the yurt,” Rebecca hollered back, her flashlight bobbing farther and farther away in the darkness. Kylo stood helplessly, watching the light get smaller and disappear. He turned to go back to his own campsite, then stopped and turned back to the yurt, then stopped again and just stared up at the dark sky full of stars for several long breaths.

He pushed back the flap of the yurt, warm light from the lanterns spilling around him. Hux was in one of the canvas chairs, scrolling through his phone with lazy swipes. He was dressed nice enough to go out, Kylo thought, looking him over while Hux’s eyes were cast down at his screen. His red hair was combed back with gel and he was wearing a dark v-neck sweater under a black jacket, his slim-fitting jeans ending in black ankle boots. A scarf and messenger bag were slung over the back of his chair, ready for him to grab, as if he were just about to walk out for a night on the town.

Hux scrolled a few more times before looking up and giving Kylo a small smile. Hux’s eyes dropped from Kylo’s face to his feet, and then raked a path back up. For a moment, Kylo was reminded of the blacksmith from seven year ago. _Seven years,_ Kylo thought with a pang.

“I didn’t want to assume you’d actually want to go out with the others,” Hux said, standing up and slipping his phone into the messenger bag. “And I had the feeling that they would mob you and try and force you to go with us. So, I thought I’d let you actually make up your mind in peace.” Hux smiled, his fingers running over the fabric of his scarf on the back of the chair. “Feel like going out tonight?” he asked, looking at Kylo and then back down at his scarf, tugging at it restlessly.

“I-” Kylo started, his mind racing for a good excuse. “I would really rather not-” he swallowed.

“I have a few options to propose,” Hux said, this time smoothing his fingers over the strap of his bag before finally dropping his arm and clasping his hands behind his back. He brought his slim frame up to its full height and met Kylo’s eyes. “We could go right now and get wings and beer with the rest of them.” Kylo frowned. “Or, we could go someplace quieter to eat, and then meet up with them for the movie…” He paused, waiting for Kylo’s reaction to the suggestion.

“I, um,” Kylo stumbled over his words. He was shaking his head slightly, not sure how to put his fear of being in public into words.

Hux swept on gracefully. “We could eat here and then join them at the theater at nine.” His hand slipped out from his behind back again and unconsciously resumed stroking the scarf, his fingers leaving brief indents in the fabric as they pressed and then released. “Or,” he said, this time quietly, “we could just stay here.” His eyes darted to Kylo’s then, his chin dropping slightly, as he focused on the knight. He looked both nervous and hopeful, as if Kylo’s answer would actually mean something to him one way or the other. As if he actually cared what Kylo wanted. A breath escaped Kylo, sounding halfway between a sigh and a moan. Hux was moving forward then, reaching out for him, the intent in his eyes suddenly clear. “Can I?” he was whispering, his hands coming up to Kylo’s chest as his eyes dropped to Kylo’s mouth, moving in, lids half-mast, his expression suddenly lost.

“Wait.” Kylo stepped back, hating himself. Hux’s eyes opened, hurt shining in them before the mask dropped back down, contained and cold. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Kylo rushed out before he could stop himself. He winced. “I’m afraid that I’ll-” He swallowed a groan of frustration. “Like what they did to you-” _I can’t trust myself. I’m afraid that I’ll force you, that I won’t be able to stop. That if you kiss me I will never have my fill of you. That I will devour you. That I’ll break you._

Hux watched him struggle, unable to voice his concerns. His expression changed slowly, becoming soft as he stepped back into Kylo’s space and reached his hand up, letting his fingers lightly brush the side of the knight’s neck. Kylo felt all the air punch out of his lungs, his eyes searching Hux’s face in a silent plea. He was too afraid to touch back, too afraid of himself, of causing harm to yet another person he cared about.

Stepping back once more, Hux’s face grew tranquil, his authority dropping over him like a cloak. “I think you need a demonstration of your own character,” he said softly. “Grab my shoulder,” he then commanded in a sharp tone. Kylo did, gently, wondering that his fingers had obeyed so quickly.

Hux heaved in a breath, closing his eyes as his ribs rose with his lungs. He opened his eyes and sent a piercing green glare at Kylo.

“Now, hit me across the face,” Hux said with the same sense of command as before.

Kylo froze. He wouldn’t, _couldn’t,_ bring himself to hurt Hux. Kylo was strong. He knew what he was physically capable of doing to Hux, how he could bring him under total submission through brute force. He refused. He would do almost anything that Hux commanded, but he wouldn’t harm him. Something unwound in Kylo’s chest at the realization. He took a deep breath and steadied himself.

Hux watched his reaction closely. A small smile crept over his face. He gave a nod, short and sharp. “I think you have been overly anxious about your potential to hurt me, Kylo,” he said softly, the mask slipping away once more. “Kiss me,” he said.

Kylo obeyed instantly, leaning in and kissing Hux on the side of his face, just above his jaw, keeping his undamaged side in contact with Hux’s flesh. The scars were safely aimed away from this man- this man who deserved so much better than him. Kylo let his lips slide over the smooth, sharp jaw, stopping every few inches to taste the soft skin. He moved down the side of his neck, finding where Hux’s pulse beat fiercely under the paper-thin skin of his throat.

He inhaled him, smelling the expensive products, the scent of his laundry detergent and fabric softener, sharp man-made scents mixed up with natural oils and the warm smell of Hux’s skin. Kylo let out a soft sigh.

Hux pulled back and looked at him. Really looked at him, long and searching. After a moment Kylo tried turning away from the intense scrutiny, but Hux cupped his face and Kylo froze. Hux’s thumbs were rubbing along Kylo’s cheek bones, one gliding over smooth flesh, the over a destroyed landscape, rutted and twisted.

“You’re so beautiful,” Hux said, his eyes on Kylo’s. No hint of sarcasm or pity. The stroking continued, soft, caring. No one touched him like this. No one had _ever_ touched him like this.

A bubble of intense emotion, hot and insistent, rose in Kylo’s chest as he searched Hux’s eyes with his. His throat was tightening. He was making a noise, one he couldn’t stop, a high-pitched, whining sort of sound. Mortified, he tried to make it stop, tried to pull away and collect himself. But Hux had his long fingers wrapped around the back of Kylo’s skull, cupping his head, and he couldn’t break away without jerking out of Hux’s grip. He didn’t want to wrench away from him. Still, he needed to stop making that noise. He needed to _stop._

The keening note he was uttering choked off then, his throat tingling and painful, something blocking his airway for a moment. Kylo’s eyebrows drew together in a puzzled expression, unsure why he wasn’t breathing right. His forehead wrinkled as he looked at Hux in confusion, searching his face for an answer. Then the tightness in his windpipe began to move up and-

His face convulsed as the sob ripped out of him. He looked at Hux, stunned, uncomprehending for a moment. He didn’t understand how that wrenching sound could have come from him. Hux was still holding his head, looking slightly up at him, and the red head’s face was. It was. He was. It looked like he was staring into his soul and absorbing his pain.

“Hux,” Kylo said. It was a broken, ugly sound. Rough and tortured. His shoulders rounded forward. He was starting to tremble, a full body shiver that wouldn’t stop.

“Kylo,” Hux whispered, reverent. A prayer. A plea. Hux pulled him gently towards himself, leaning in at the same time, only breaking eye contact when they were too close to maintain it, and kissed him softly on the mouth.

A molten rush flooded Kylo’s brain. A heat so intense he gasped. His face twisted, the muscles rebelling out of his control and then he was sobbing, large, uncontrollable convulsions of his throat, keening and cut off, wet and terrible. He burrowed into Hux’s neck, screwing his eyes shut and tried not to shake apart.

Hux gathered him into his arms and Kylo was grateful Hux couldn’t see his face as it pulled into a grimace of pain, the skin stretching ugly and tight. Hux had one arm wrapped around Kylo’s back, his palm splayed between his shoulderblades, holding their chests together, the other hand cradling his skull. Hux angled his head and their cheeks pressed together, Kylo’s good side pressing into smooth flesh. He could feel Hux’s breath against his ear and neck, ghosting down his left side.

There was a voice then, Hux’s voice, dropping low under the shuddering sobs still ripping through Kylo’s frame that he was helpless to stop. He couldn’t determine any words, but Hux wasn’t shushing him or telling him to stop crying. It was just the comforting presence of his voice, reassuring and calm, letting Kylo know that he was alright, that Hux wasn’t going to push him away.

Kylo struggled for several long moments, wanting to hide his shameful outburst, needing to get away and be alone. He warred with the urge to pull back and run. Hux ought to be laughing at his weakness, his pitiful emotions. Not holding him. Not murmuring soothingly in his ear.

Hux seemed to sense the tension gathering in Kylo’s muscles and his intent to pull away, because his arms and hands increased their pressure around him almost desperately, trembling at the strength it took to hold him there. “Don’t go,” Hux pleaded quietly.

Kylo pulled back far enough to see Hux’s face, his own eyes burning from the sting of letting loose long-unshed tears. Hux’s eyes were glassy and red, as though he had been crying too.

“Don’t go,” he said again. “Stay.” The last word was whispered between them, broken but sure. Kylo nodded his surrender, his forehead coming to rest against Hux’s as the other man ran his hand up the back of Kylo’s skull and fisted his hair, holding him close. Hux sighed in contentment. “Thank you,” he murmured. Kylo gave a shattered laugh and pulled him in closer, holding him tight.

 

* * *

 

He wasn’t sure how long they remained like that, standing in the middle of the yurt, clinging to each other. Before Kylo could start to feel too awkward, they somehow ended up sitting side-by-side in a pair of canvas chairs, watching _Time Bandits_ on Hux’s iPad. Kylo, still a little shaky with emotion and not knowing what to do about it, drank a beer and Hux had a glass of white wine that was mostly ice, and they laughed and quoted lines along with the movie. Hux kept getting up every fifteen minutes to bring Kylo more snacks and to fuss with the heater or the lights, flitting around like he couldn’t stay still very long. Kylo ate everything he was given and watched Hux more than the screen.

The movie ended, and instead of leaving, Kylo stayed and talked with Hux for another couple of hours. Mostly he listened to Hux’s stories and his dead-on imitations of the Elves and others from the faire, chuckling and shaking his head. He offered a few stories of his own, carefully edited to focus on Phasma or Rey or one of the other performers rather than himself.

The conversation shifted to Hux’s neighborhood back in London, and Kylo drank his fourth beer while he listened, easily picturing the flat and the twice-weekly market on Hux’s road. Hux described some drawings he’d found in a local shop, and how he had started an “unofficial, cheap art collection” of drawings and paintings.

“I have one wall filled from top to bottom with portraits of random people,” Hux said, between bites of an apple, the first thing Kylo had seen him eat all night. He didn’t comment on it, just watched Hux smiling dreamily as he described his home. “I didn’t realize I was buying so many pictures of people until I started having them framed. Then I was surprised that I had, like, one ink drawing of a tree, and about forty portraits.” He shrugged and looked back at Kylo after tossing his apple core away in the tent’s makeshift kitchen.

There were voices outside. Kylo felt his shoulders tense. The others had come back. He checked his phone. It was after midnight. “Sorry,” he said to Hux. “I didn’t mean to stay so long.” They still had one more working day to get through before the weekend was over. Hux was doing the large-eyed staring thing he did sometimes, like he was trying to telepathically communicate something to Kylo that he just wasn’t picking up.

“No one will come in here,” Hux blurted, then went red. “I, um, may have been very clear with them on that point.” Kylo stared at him. Hux shifted and continued, haltingly, “So if, if that’s what you’re worried about, you don’t have to go yet, I mean.”

Kylo swallowed, his nervousness creeping back. “Tomorrow’s a faire day,” he managed, his mouth going dry. “You have to get up early…” When Hux didn’t say anything in answer, Kylo stood up and pulled his hoodie back over his t-shirt.  He walked reluctantly toward the exit, Hux trailing behind.

“Kylo,” Hux said, just as they reached the tent flap. Kylo paused with his hand just grasping the fabric and looked at Hux. “You really don’t have to go.” He shifted on his feet slightly, looking at Kylo urgently. “You could, you could sleep here. With me.” His gaze dropped at last, landing somewhere around Kylo’s feet. “If you want to.”

Kylo’s chest was doing something odd. So was his stomach. And his face. He had no idea what expression he was making, but Hux was looking at him again, doing the wide-eyed thing.

“I do, I mean I would but-” Kylo cut himself off, shaking his head. “Hux, why would you offer that to me?” His eyebrows drew down as he stared at the blushing man in front of him, Hux’s delicate hands fisting in the hem of his shirt. “You don’t have to give me charity, Hux. If that’s what you’re doing-”

“Fucking _hell,_ Kylo,” Hux exploded, just barely keeping his voice down enough not to be heard by the whole campsite. “Can’t I just want you because I want you?”

Kylo made a helpless gesture. “But why-”

Hux surged forward and kissed him again. It was nothing like the first kiss. That had been sweet, reassuring, and soft. This kiss was pure _need._ Hux sucked at Kylo’s lips, licked his lips, bit his lips. He murmured _oh god oh god oh god_ in the brief moments he pulled back from Kylo’s mouth. The focus in Hux’s eyes was intense, driven. Kylo let himself be kissed passionately, confusion wrestling with the fire Hux was stirring up with his soft lips, hot tongue, sharp teeth, whispered words, the urgent attack on Kylo’s body. He was pressing up against him, pushing up close to him, his hands in Kylo’s hair, sliding through, grasping, his fingertips rasping his scalp gently. He was saying things like _Jesus Christ, your mouth_ and _I fucking knew it, god_ before licking at his lips again and moaning as his hands wandered.

Kylo held him lightly, as though he might call attention to the fact that Hux was doing all this to _him,_ not someone desirable or beautiful like he deserved, just _him._ He was afraid that Hux would realize at any moment now that he had made a mistake, that he didn’t want to be kissing Kylo at all. For a pained moment he wondered if this was the last weekend Hux was going to be at the faire. They had never discussed how long the Elves were staying. What if… what if this was goodbye?

He wrapped his arms around Hux reflexively, as if he could keep him there, shelter this moment between the two of them forever. Then he kissed back. He had no guide but Hux himself, tentatively copying what he was doing, moving his lips slowly over Hux’s, tasting him, touching his mouth with his tongue, softly. Hux moaned at his sudden responsiveness, going nearly limp in his arms, as he let Kylo’s strength take over. Kylo had one huge hand splayed over the small of Hux’s back and the other at the back of his neck, pulling his whole body up and in, gathering Hux to himself greedily.

Hux turned his head out of the kiss, offering up his neck instead, and Kylo chased the graceful line of his throat with exploring kisses, while Hux groaned desperately in his ear. Kylo’s hands slipped over the slim back, feeling his dancer-like body through the fabric, his shoulder blades and ribs, so delicate, so beautiful. His lips reached Hux’s clavicle. He worshiped at the small dip of bone and flesh, heat pooling with the racing pulse beneath his mouth. He let his hands move again, stroking down over the pert curve of Hux’s backside, the perfectly shaped cheeks yielding just slightly to his hand, the combination of soft and firm making Kylo dizzy. On instinct he reached a finger between, gliding down Hux’s crack over his clothes, searching for the tight heat located there. Hux cried out and arched back, his hips thrusting up along Kylo’s thigh. He felt how hard Hux was and he wanted to touch, wanted so bad, wanted to grab Hux and hold his writhing body beneath him, hear him calling out for more-

Kylo pulled back, almost dropping Hux in his haste to let go. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he muttered. He staggered back, feeling his erection pressing ready and urgent against his jeans. His body wanted Hux, wanted to rut into him like an animal-

Hux caught his elbow before he could turn and run. “What’s wrong?” he asked urgently.

“I should go,” Kylo said in a strained voice. He couldn’t stay here any longer. He couldn’t trust himself around Hux.

“Why?” Hux asked. He looked small and hurt, his confused face taking in the state of Kylo’s arousal, then looking back into his eyes. “I want you, you know that, right? Please tell me you know that.”

Kylo felt all his muscles drawing in, energy coiling. It felt violent and dangerous. “I don’t understand why,” he whispered. “Why would you want me?”

Hux stared at him blankly for a moment, then rubbed his hands over his face, his lips still red and plump from kissing. Kylo wished they were still kissing. He wished he could trust himself enough to kiss him again. Hux caught him staring when he dropped his hands and he let out a long-suffering sigh.

“Let’s try this a different way,” Hux said, getting his professional look back on his face and straightening up. “Are you attracted to me?” Kylo looked down at the obvious state of his body and Hux snorted. “Okay, we’ll take that as a yes then.” He took another deep breath, his head lolling over to the side in consideration. “Do you want to have sex with me?”

Kylo couldn’t help the way his eyes lit up, the way he scoured down the long lines of Hux’s frame. He managed a nod, not trusting his voice, his eyes resting on Hux’s mouth again, wanting it back on his. Hux gave a weary laugh. “Well, alright then. At least that’s clear.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Got any plans for after the faire tomorrow?” Kylo shook his head. “Meet me here at six?” Kylo nodded. “Good. I’ll see you then.”

Kylo was halfway back to his camp before he could walk without chafing against his jeans. He wasn’t sure what he had agreed to. He still had no idea how long Hux would be around. Hux wasn’t like the blacksmith, he was somehow so much _more_. Kylo didn’t know how he’d become so important, but he had, and he couldn't bear to think of him leaving. He had looked for the blacksmith for _years._ Vaguely, passively, but always with hope. What would his life be like after Hux was no more than a memory, one he couldn’t even let himself think about?

This. _This_ was why he never let himself feel. _This_ is why he preferred not to have a past or a future, just one day after the next, finite and contained. The pain was coming. And was his own fault.

Kylo lay in his tent, still musty with the memory of family camping trips, of spending the night in the back yard with his dad as a kid in summer. If he let go of the numbness for even a moment, he could almost hear his mother’s footsteps outside in the grass, coming to call them inside for breakfast.

He curled up, pulling his arms over his head as tightly as possible, and forced himself to sleep.

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter.  
> I can't believe it.  
> I am going to miss writing this so much.

Kylo hadn’t decided whether or not to go to the Elf camp and make coffee the next morning when he rolled off his sleeping bag and tossed away the army blanket. He stumbled out of his tent, took one look at Phasma’s gray face as she sat staring at the cold fire pit, and decided that she needed coffee more than the Elves. He got a fire started and filled up the kettle at the pump, before scooping coffee grounds into the battered french press. He scrounged around in the shopping bags from Thursday and managed to find an apple, which he pressed into Phasma’s hand. She held it absently, not taking a bite.

He sat next to her for awhile, tending the fire and making the coffee, adding creamer and sugar for Phasma before handing her a mug. She sipped at it while he watched her, his whole body tense with the need to make it better, but not knowing what was wrong or how to fix it.

“We need to talk,” she said finally. Kylo’s eyes widened. Nothing good ever started with those words. He shrank into himself and looked at the fire. Phasma sipped her coffee for a few minutes. “I’m not ready to talk about it now,” she said, as though making up her mind about something. “Come over tonight. I’ll drive you home with me and we can talk.”

“But-”

“This is _important,_ Kylo,” Phasma snapped. “I need you to do this for me okay? This _one_ thing.” Kylo swallowed roughly and nodded.

“Okay,” he said.

Phasma’s eyes softened and she weakly patted his wrist, which was the only part of him she could reach from her chair. “Thanks,” she said. “Really, I mean it.” She toyed with her phone for a moment, turning it over in her hand like she meant to check it, before setting it down. “I texted Mitaka. I told him not to come. You wouldn’t mind if we cancelled our shows today, would you? I meant to ask, but…” she trailed off, shrugging.

“No, that’s fine,” Kylo answered, his stomach sinking even lower. Whatever this was, it was bad. He wondered if she had lost one of her jobs. He knew money was tight. Kylo gave her everything he could from his share of the earnings, but she usually managed to spend it on him anyway, buying him food and clothes, doing his laundry, getting him pills to help with his panic attacks.

“Thanks,” she said again. “I’m just going to hang around here for a bit, okay? I have a few people I want to talk to before we leave tonight, so I guess I’ll meet you back here at sunset, alright?”

“Yeah,” Kylo said, his voice nearly non-existent. “That’s fine.” Phasma clearly wanted to be alone, so Kylo grabbed stuff for a shower, intending to give her some time. He could come back later and get some gear to practice in the field. He would also have to find Hux and cancel whatever it was that they had planned. Kylo still wasn’t clear on what that was. He had been fantasizing pretty hard over the possibilities, but Phasma needed him. Really needed him for something, and he owed her more than he could ever repay.

“Hey,” she said, right before he walked out of the clearing. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, worried. “Yeah, Phas, I know.”

“Okay,” she said softly. “See you in a while then.”

 

* * *

 

Kylo stood under the warm spray of the shower and concentrated on the way the droplets ran over his scalp and down his face, catching along the scarring on the right side. He ignored the mirrors in the main room on his way out, combing his fingers through his hair and letting it dry the way it wanted.

The Elven camp was silent when he walked back, the chairs around the pit looking forlorn without any occupants. He considered texting Rebecca for Hux’s number, but Hux had said that he didn’t carry his phone with him while he was in costume. That meant somehow finding him in the mass of people already milling about the grounds.

Phasma was gone by the time he got back to their camp. He tossed his bag of toiletries and dirty clothes into his tent, and considered whether or not to put on his costume for walking around. On one hand, the helmet hid his face, and he was used to being around the faire throngs while wearing literal armor. It made him feel safe, he realized. He’d never really thought of it in terms of safe or unsafe, but since Hux’s attack and his refusal to walk around half in costume, something had clicked with Kylo and he knew that they were the same that way…

 _“I understand hiding,”_ Hux had said. Kylo’s stomach tightened.

He decided to leave the armor and helmet behind. At the moment, they felt a lot more like a burden than protection. He wanted to be able to move around quickly, and if he was dressed as the black knight, he would undoubtedly be stopped for photos.

Kylo started with the closest lane and worked counter-clockwise around the faire, craning his neck for a glimpse of long red hair. It was nearly an hour before he found any of the Elves. Rebecca and the Elf with the broad shoulders were posing with a family made up almost completely of daughters, their faces lit up and their cheeks painted with whiskers and flowers as the parents took photos. Kylo stood off to the side, waiting for the Elves to be free. Rebecca came up to him, the smile slipping off her face when she realized that he wasn’t in costume.

“Is everything okay?” she asked, taking in Kylo’s somber expression.

“Yeah,” Kylo replied. “I just need to talk to Hux. Do you know where he is?”

Rebecca’s frown deepened. “Don’t cancel on him,” she said, her eyes suddenly going fierce. “If you had any idea-”

“I promised Phasma,” Kylo interrupted. “She needs to talk to me.” Kylo searched Rebecca’s face. “I’m worried,” he added.

Rebecca sighed, her shoulders slumping. “Me too,” she answered in a small voice. “Okay, well, I guess that’s a good reason. Just-” she stopped, shaking her head. She pointed down a side lane. “He was headed that way fifteen minutes ago,” she said.

Kylo thanked her and took off down the dirt path. He noticed a few people doing double takes of him as he passed, and he realized with a start that he wasn’t wearing a hoodie and he hadn’t even pulled his hair over his face. It was just hanging around his shoulders, wavy and unmanageable the way it liked, as if he hadn’t spent eleven years of his life trying to train it to flop over his right cheek.

Of course, that was the moment he noticed Hux coming back down the lane in full costume, a bag wrapped up in one hand. He saw Kylo, and his face immediately lit up. “Hi!” he called out. “I bought us something for tonight. Phasma says you like whiskey, and I…” he trailed off as he came to a stop in front of Kylo, raking him up and down with his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked harshly, sensing Kylo’s distress and looking around them, as if there was some threat he hadn’t noticed. He searched Kylo’s face, taking in the fact that he wasn’t hiding as successfully as usual, and his embarrassment over that fact. “You’re not in costume.”

Kylo shook his head. “No.” He swallowed, looking down at Hux’s upturned green eyes. His makeup enhanced his natural features rather than hiding them like it did with the other actors. He just looked like Hux, except with flawless skin and slightly sharper cheekbones. Other than the wig, he looked remarkably similar to the way he did after a shower. Kylo reined in his thoughts, trying to focus on something other than Hux’s intense gaze. “Phasma cancelled the shows today.”

“Is everything okay? Are you okay? You aren’t hurt, are you? Or sick?” Hux was scanning him all over again, trying to find something he’d overlooked, concern clear on his face. Kylo’s heart gave a lurch.

“I’m fine,” Kylo reassured him, smiling to himself at Hux’s sigh of relief. “But, I have to cancel for tonight.”

Hux’s face fell. “Oh,” he said, his voice sounding small.

“I knew you wouldn’t have your phone on you, so I thought I’d come find you instead.” Kylo stared at the top of Hux’s head as the Elf dropped his gaze to the bag in his hand, turning it over in his slim hands restlessly.

“I see,” Hux answered. His voice had gone sterile, cold. It was the voice he’d used in the beginning, before whatever this odd thing that was between them had started. Kylo realized that he had no idea when it had begun. One day Hux had been someone he thought of as beautiful but arrogant, and the next he’d… well, he’d become more. Much more. “When you didn’t come make coffee this morning, I thought you’d just overslept,” Hux said, his voice low, clipped. Still, Kylo could make out the hurt in it. “But, I guess that was just your way of trying to tell me.” He shook his head, motioning at the bottle in his hands. “I obviously didn’t get the message.”

“What?” Kylo asked, stung by the coldness in Hux’s voice. He mentally went over what he’d said. Oh. “No, I don’t _want_ to cancel tonight. I was, I mean, I really want to, to see you,” He stumbled over his words, Hux’s green eyes suddenly on him again. “I promised Phasma we could talk. She’s upset and she said she really needed to talk to me. She wants to drive me over to her place tonight and she had no idea that we, that you and I had plans. I didn’t tell her. I’ve never seen her like this and-” Kylo shrugged helplessly, trying to make Hux understand.

The redhead’s face had gone from cautious to relieved to worried. “Oh, of course! No, that makes perfect sense. I thought that you were trying to tell me that you… okay well. Um. Is she alright? Do you know what it’s about?”

Kylo shook his head and sighed. “She didn’t tell me, but I think she may have lost one of her jobs.”

“Oh, I hope not,” Hux said, but he was looking a lot less dour.  “When are you guys headed out?”

“I think around six.”

Hux smiled, his eyes dropping to Kylo’s chest as he caught his lower lip with his teeth, trying to hide his grin. “So, you’re free now?” he asked.

Kylo looked at him with surprise as Hux’s gaze flashed up to his, his green eyes dancing with something Kylo couldn’t name. “Um, yes,” Kylo answered, his voice inexplicably rough. Hux’s smile deepened. He stepped past Kylo and walked a few steps down the lane. He turned and beckoned Kylo with one graceful hand.

“Well, come on then,” he said, and walked back to the Elven camp.

 

* * *

 

Sunlight illuminated the yurt, striking the white fabric of the walls and ceiling and causing the inside to glow with muted brightness. Kylo watched as Hux pulled off his wig and then his skull cap, ruffling through his own hair with a sigh.

“I know I only put that thing on a few hours ago, but it always feels so good to take it off,” he said, arranging the wig on its Styrofoam head and stretching his neck. Hux hadn’t said, but Kylo realized that he must be taking the rest of the day off, because he was wiping his face with a cloth and removing his makeup, bending over to see in one of the mirrors.

Halfway through, he straightened up and glanced around, searching for something. “I meant to show you these,” he said, grabbing his iPad, swiping at it, and handing it over to Kylo before going back to washing his face in the mirror.

Kylo tore his eyes away from Hux and looked down at the screen. He was looking at a photo of a painting. The subject was a woman with close-cropped hair, her eyes looking out at the viewer in a challenge. Kylo found himself studying it for several minutes, captivated by the work. He swiped to the next photo, this time a drawing of a man with an elaborately styled beard, a jaunty smile on his face, and a tattoo wrapped around the side of his neck. It was by a different artist, and done in pencil instead of paint, but there was something about the two that tied them together. He flipped to the next one. Another portrait, this time in charcoal. “These are the pieces in your collection,” Kylo suddenly realized.

Hux beamed, walking over to him still rubbing a soft towel over his face, drying his skin. “Yes,” he confirmed, leaning over his arm so he could see which one Kylo was looking at. “Here,” he said pulling the pad back and flipping through until he found what he was looking for. He broke of his search for a moment to toss several cushions from the canvas chairs into a pile by the thick center post of the yurt. Indicating with a look and a gesture that he wished for Kylo to sit, Hux waited for him to get comfortably seated, with his back supported by the post, before handing the pad back.

Kylo was still staring at the piece when Hux returned a few moments later with a small tumbler for each of them filled with whiskey. “I bought this especially for you, and damned if I’m not going to drink any of it. I don’t care that it’s barely past lunchtime,” he said, kneeling down next to Kylo so he could see the picture on the screen.

The photo was of a pencil sketch. It was simpler than the others, done in hurry judging by the smudges and hasty lines littering the paper it was drawn on. The man looking out at the viewer didn’t have scars, but the right side of his face was in shadow, the artist having blocked in the shade with a few rough strokes. “He looks like me,” Kylo said, surprised.

Hux smirked. “He does, doesn’t he?” The redhead took a sip of the whiskey, making a pleased sound as he swallowed. He set the tumbler down and stood up just long enough to slip out of his soft shoes, tossing them over by his manikin. Kylo stared at the white feet and ankles until they vanished under the long robe of his costume as he situated himself next to Kylo again. The knight leaned over, trying not to be too obvious, getting a little closer so he could inhale Hux’s clean smell, soap and shampoo, and the warm scent of his skin.

“Oh, look at this one,” Hux said, reaching over Kylo’s arm and flicking his finger a few times, bringing up another sketch. “This one doesn’t look as much like you, but look at the way he’s standing. Obviously some sort of fighter. Look at the shoulders.” Hux turned to gauge Kylo’s opinion, their faces close together. “The first time you came to our camp,” Hux said softly, “I thought of this drawing. The way you hunched in the camp chair, obviously too big for it, dwarfing everyone but Phasma. Even then you are so much broader…” he trailed off as his eyes slipped over Kylo’s shoulders and chest. Clearing his throat, Hux raised his eyes again. “And then, when I caught sight of your face, even in the half light, I thought of the other sketch- my favorite sketch.”

Their gaze was heated as they stared at one another, so close. Kylo was drawn to Hux, a moth to a flame, leaning in, wanting his mouth on his, but not knowing if it was allowed.

“To think,” Hux mumbled into the space between them, “I hung your likeness on my wall, wondering why I was so obsessed with the messiest sketch out of all of them-” and then he closed the gap and his mouth was on Kylo’s, whiskey bright and warm.

Kylo hadn’t been able to stop thinking about kissing Hux since the night before, and he immediately surrendered. The wanton moan that escaped Hux both startled and inflamed Kylo, as he delved deeper into the kiss, marveling that he was causing this reaction in the other man. If it wasn’t for the corset keeping his spine locked straight, Hux would have been a pliant mess in his arms. As it was, he was pushing in closer, trying to meld into Kylo’s chest, his arms wrapped tight around the knight’s neck. Like the previous evening, one of Hux’s hands got wound up in Kylo’s thick hair at the back of his head. He twisted it up softly in his fist, tugging and craning Kylo’s head around for new angles on his mouth, taking over the kiss and drinking Kylo in.

“Oh god,” Hux moaned, shuffling into Kylo’s lap and gripping his hips with his long legs, pressing Kylo back against the sturdy post as he canted his hips forward. Kylo felt Hux’s hard length slide against his stomach, and he groaned low and desperate, his hands roaming over the unyielding waist of the corset. “I was going to be ready for you tonight,” Hux was saying, rambling against Kylo’s lips. “I was going to finger myself open, get myself wet, so all you would have to do is slip inside.” Kylo moaned and grabbed Hux’s bound waist, manhandling him so that Hux was rutting against his erection instead of his stomach, his head falling back against the post at the sensation of Hux thrusting against him. “I’ll show you,” Hux whispered, lapping at Kylo’s lower lip, teasing it before pulling it into his mouth and sucking lightly. “Do you want to see how I was going to open myself up for you, Kylo?”

“Yes,” he managed to gasp, getting his mouth on Hux’s neck for a few fleeting moments before the slender Elf pulled away. Kylo tried to steady his ragged breath as he watched Hux retrieve a small bottle and a condom, absolutely silent on his bare feet. Kylo adjusted himself in his pants, groaning at how hard he was. He knew he ought to tell Hux that he was inexperienced, that, as much as he wanted this - needed it with his entire being - he was terrified of messing up and hurting him. But then Hux was returning, sinking back onto his lap like he’d never left, and Kylo lost all coherent thought to the heated slide of Hux’s lips and tongue.

They kissed for several long moments, and Kylo felt brave enough to let his hands find Hux’s ankles where they were nestled against Kylo’s thighs. He let his thick fingers wrap around the slender appendages, feeling the smooth skin, his hands slipping down to trace over the arch of each long foot, before trailing back up to his calves, pushing the silky fabric of the costume out of the way has his hands climbed higher.

He had a hand wrapped around the top of each slim thigh, his thumbs drawing circles between Hux’s legs, before the Elf pulled back, looking dazed, his breath turning into a low moan, his head tipping back as Kylo’s hands crept up. Kylo’s fingers just brushed Hux’s straining erection before the redhead cried out and grabbed his wrists, stopping him. Kylo froze, worried he had done something wrong. Hux panted above him, his copper hair fanned over his forehead in a soft mess. “Oh god, if you touch me now, I’ll come,” Hux gasped. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Kylo, you have _no_ idea.” Then Hux was kissing him again, softer this time, his body moving back from Kylo’s. “Just let me calm down a bit,” Hux said between kisses, “and I’ll show you what I had planned for tonight.”

Kylo just nodded helplessly against the post, feeling his hair moving against the smooth wood. Hux smiled, ducking his head to kiss Kylo’s throat before standing quickly and pulling his underwear out from beneath his robe.

He sighed a little sadly as he tossed them in his hamper. “You weren’t supposed to see any of that,” he told Kylo with a smirk. “Nothing kills the illusion like a pair of briefs.” He came and stood in front of Kylo. His silken robe, held in place by the corset, was all that remained of the costume. “I eventually need you to help me get this off,” he said, stroking the front of the binding fabric, “but if you don’t mind, I‘d like to try indulging a little fantasy of mine.” He quirked one red eyebrow, and Kylo just nodded enthusiastically. “Good,” he said.

Hux began hitching up the smooth layers of his robe, sliding the material up over his long legs, until it was bunched in his arms, just barely covering him. He came back to kneel between Kylo’s legs, facing away from him this time. He looked over his shoulder, his expression shy as he met Kylo’s hungry eyes.

“I’ll need your help keeping all this out of the way,” he said, indicating the robe. Then he was coating his fingers, rising up and pulling the material away and…

Kylo moaned at the sight of Hux’s bare thighs, his long fingers dripping as they reached behind and began to delve into himself. His own hand came up around Hux’s waist, gathering the robe up and tugging it out of the way of Hux’s moving fingers, flashing in and out of himself as he reached deeper, stretching and slicking himself up. Kylo’s thumbs found the grooves above Hux’s hips, right beneath the unforgiving bite of the corset, and he stroked the small indentations as he watched Hux prepare himself.

Oh god. Hux was preparing himself. For Kylo. He wanted-

Kylo warred with both rising lust and panic. With a determination that came from long years of practice, he banished the thought of _later_ from his mind. There was only right now, and right now Hux wanted Kylo and Kylo could die from happiness. He didn’t want his demons to ruin this moment for him. This one moment was all he needed, all he wanted. Then he could face the next hour, the next day, the next week. Then he could think about how he had this one perfect thing in his pathetic life and pretend that it was enough.

“Kylo, I’m ready,” Hux said, twisting so he could reach Kylo’s mouth and kiss him for a long moment. Then he was pulling away and tugging on Kylo’s belt with his unlubed hand. Kylo helped, and soon his pants and underwear were bunched around his ankles and he was kneeling, sitting back on his feet, his erection hanging heavy and weeping from between his thighs.

Hux gave a strangled moan, gazing down at it. “Jesus Christ,” he murmured. His eyes trailed unsteadily up from Kylo’s groin until Hux managed to meet his eyes. “How are you even real?” Hux asked in a hushed voice. His eyes dropped back down between Kylo’s legs, and he seemed torn for a moment, as if revising his plan. Then he gave a slight shake of his head and mumbled “Later,” before ripping open the foil packet, and with one hand rolled the condom down over Kylo’s length, ending in and almost regretful squeeze to the base. “Later,” he murmured to himself again.

Hux balanced on his toes and the balls of his feet between Kylo’s spread knees, his back to the knight, who was still trying to focus on holding the robe out of the way and not coming as Hux took him in his hand again, lining them up. He looked back at Kylo, twisting as much as the corset allowed. He looked him in the eyes, deadly serious for a moment.

“You’ll have to keep me quiet.” Kylo looked at him helplessly, not knowing what he meant, not able to think of anything beyond the clutch of Hux’s hand around his cock and the heat of Hux’s body hovering so close. “I won’t be able to control it,” Hux said. “Someone will hear and might try and come in, so,” he said, beginning to sink back, his slight weight causing the head of Kylo’s erection to split him open as he dropped slowly into his lap, “you’ll have to keep me quiet-”

As soon as he stopped speaking, Hux’s voice went ragged in a low moan, one hand reaching back and clasping Kylo’s upper thigh for balance, as he impaled himself down on his thick length, spearing himself as he let gravity help seat Kylo to the hilt. He sat back fully, the hand that had been holding Kylo’s length falling to Kylo’s other thigh as he adjusted around him. “Oh god oh god,” he was saying under his breath.

Kylo was dizzy with what he was feeling. It went beyond the molten clutch around his cock, beyond the position Hux had maneuvered them into so that they both had control over what was happening. He was awed that it didn’t matter that this was his first time, Hux had made sure that there was nothing for him to mess up. He'd even put the condom on him, and none of it had seemed forced.

The hand that wasn’t clutching the robe out of the way wandered up Hux’s slim body, caressing over the corset until he found the skin at the base of his long neck. His thumb felt over the knobs of Hux’s spine as his fingers wrapped around and brushed back and forth over the sharp jut of Hux’s collarbone. _You are so beautiful,_ Kylo thought. _So beautiful._

There was a quiet breathless moment, Kylo feeling their combined heartbeats where he was buried inside Hux’s body. Hux took a few steadying breaths above him, his head hanging back slightly and his body arched as much as the corset allowed. Then Hux moved. He shifted forward on his feet and pushed on Kylo’s thighs for leverage, pulling away slowly, Kylo slipping backwards along his tight walls. Before he had moved more than a few inches, Hux shifted his weight and thrust back down and moaned. Loud.

Oh.

Kylo’s hand crept tentatively up to Hux’s face and the redhead turned into it. He slipped his hand across his mouth and Hux nodded fervently, agreeing that’s what he’d meant. Kylo’s grip grew tighter as Hux began to ride him in earnest. He wailed against Kylo’s fingers as he slammed home again and again, Kylo lined up to hit inside him perfectly, thrusting up into him to match Hux’s rhythm. Kylo made a seal over his mouth, muffling him to a dull roar, barely containing his own moans.

The burning, ecstatic feeling of being with Hux, inside Hux, was growing, moving up from between his legs, a heat rippling out through his stomach and then to the rest of his limbs. His nipples were hard under his shirt. Even his throat tingled with the friction of Hux enveloping him. The heat would build and then plateau, build and plateau, his orgasm always feeling a few thrusts away, then retreating. He held Hux, listening to his stifled moans and cries, checking to make sure he was breathing easily enough, and felt the heat build and flatten out until he was stretched thin and tight, waiting to tear apart.

Hux’s head flopped back against Kylo’s, resting against him for a moment as his pace grew erratic. Their sweaty hair rubbed together as he turned to try and look at Kylo. He was mumbling something against Kylo’s hand. Kylo pulled his fingers away so he could hear what he was saying. “Not going to last,” Hux said, as Kylo helped guide him with his hand at his waist, clutching as much of Hux and the robe as he could in one hand. His back against the post helped keep them both steady as he loosely held Hux’s throat and drove up into him when Hux’s strength started to wane.

Kylo hooked his chin over Hux’s shoulder as he felt him go rigid and clench down desperately. He watched as Hux let go of Kylo’s thigh to yank the robe out of the way in front of him as he shot across the throw rug spread over the floor of the yurt. Kylo clamped his hand over Hux’s cry, though with regret, wishing he could hear him really let go.

Instead of tipping over the edge with him, the heat in Kylo’s groin spiked and then leveled out again, still feeling a thrust away from orgasm. He stopped moving, though, once Hux went boneless in his arms, worried that he would be oversensitive. After a few heartbeats holding him close, Hux stirred and began rocking back on Kylo again, aiming for the spot inside him that made him choke and cry out. Kylo looked and saw that Hux was still hard even though he’d just come. God, even his cock was pretty.

After a few more deep, rather urgent thrusts back, which Kylo began to meet, feeling himself draw close again, Hux’s head lolled over to the side and he gazed at Kylo as best he could. His brow furrowed up in confusion and he looked completely lost, his soft hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. Kylo’s fingers loosened over his mouth. “I’m…” Hux paused, thrusting his hips down to take Kylo roughly inside himself, as if checking to make sure. “I’m going to come again.” He said it with a furrowed brow, as if that wasn’t right, like he’d gotten it wrong somehow.

His green eyes rolled back, and Hux sobbed, sitting hard on Kylo’s lap as he came a second time. Thick pearly globs bubbled from his slit and dripped to the floor. Kylo gently pushed into Hux as he held his limp body, watching over Hux’s shoulder as he milked more white ropes from Hux, trailing down to the floor on gossamer strands.

It wasn’t until Hux turned to kiss him that Kylo realized he had finally tipped over the edge and was coming inside Hux. The redhead clamped down on him, practically purring as Kylo shuddered, the slow buildup resulting in a flood of shocks, the climax lasting for so much longer than usual. He gasped and clung to Hux, his arms encircling him and feeling like he could snap him if he wasn’t careful. “Hux,” he whispered. “Hux.”

They ended up slumped into the cushions on their sides, Kylo still buried inside Hux, the Elf murmuring like he couldn’t stop himself. “God, you’re amazing. Knew you would be. Knew it. Wanted that since I first saw you…”

Kylo just kissed his sweaty neck and made soothing sounds, still drifting on his own high. He absently started pulling on the corset laces, undoing the knot as he found a warm, soft spot behind Hux’s ear to nuzzle. Soon, he had the corset loose enough for Hux to get out of it, though the Elf just reached back and held Kylo’s head against the back of his skull for several breaths, before finally pulling slowly forward. Kylo slid out of Hux’s body and frowned as Hux turned over and slipped the condom off him. Hux looked at his face and smiled.

“You take really good care of me,” Kylo murmured, more to himself than Hux. The Elf’s eyes went dark for a moment.

“Oh, I want to take care of you,” he said, combing one hand back through Kylo’s mane. “All of the time. In every way possible.” He stood up then, discarding the condom and shimmying out of the corset. He stretched his arms over his head, the loose robe opening enough to reveal a long, pale expanse of skin before Hux wrapped back up in the silk and slipped next to Kylo again. He snuggled in, chest to chest, arranging the cushions to fit both of them comfortably on the floor.

Kylo reached out and gathered him close, trying not to short-circuit at the fact that he was allowed to do this. That he was holding another living person in his arms- a content, beautiful, and _satiated_ person. He clutched him as Hux drifted off, feeling possessive and feral. He wanted to keep Hux. He wanted Hux to lay claim to him and keep him in return. His heart beat fast in his chest, his mind racing. The future crashed in on him against his will, screaming in rage at being ignored for so long.

 

* * *

 

Han swung in through the front door with the last box, calling out to Ben’s mom as he strode past the kitchen. “I’ll get us a bucket of chicken, don’t cook anything.”

“Oh, I wasn’t planning on it,” Leia said, rolling her eyes at the pile of kitchen utensils half unpacked and lying all over the counter. Ben was doing his best at untangling the cords of the hand mixer, toaster, and blender, that had somehow turned into a huge knot during the drive from their old house. He scowled at his parents, dropping his thirteen-going-on-fourteen-year-old eyes back to the task at hand.

“The chicken here probably isn’t as good,” Ben announced, dropping the cords in frustration.

“We’ll find a good place, kid,” Han answered, ruffling Ben’s hair the way he hated. “There’s several fry places not to far from home and-”

“This isn’t home,” Ben exploded. Why didn’t they understand? This wasn’t their house, their house was several states away, sold to a stranger. There were beloved pets that they’d buried in the yard, a little row of rocks over the graves of goldfish and hamsters. The new owner wouldn’t care about that. He wouldn’t care about the space mural Ben and his dad had painted in his bedroom, or the notches in the doorway to the basement that indicated Ben’s height every year since he was three.

He stormed out the back door, throwing himself down on the side of the crooked porch. He hated it here. He hated this house and this neighborhood. Nothing was familiar. He had no memories with the other kids he could hear yelling out in the street. Nothing belonged to him. Nothing was his.

His dad lumbered out onto the porch after a few minutes, sitting down next to Ben but not touching him. “Hey, I know it’s hard,” he started. Ben shot him an annoyed look, shrugging farther into his sweatshirt. “No, I do,” Han insisted. “We moved around a lot when I was a kid, so I get it.” Ben just eyed him warily from where he was sulking and kicking his foot through the dirt that was supposed to become his mom’s new garden. “But, look,” Han continued, I know this is a new house and all, but we’re together, right? Home isn’t a house. Home is the people you love.” Ben snorted. His dad could be so corny. “Someday you’ll know I’m right,” Han said with a wink.

Han stood up and dusted off the seat of his pants, then offered a hand to Ben. Groaning with (mostly) feigned annoyance, he let his dad help him to his feet. They went back inside where his mom had managed to get the cords pulled apart and was stowing everything in the cupboards.

“Me an’ the kid are going to go hunt up some decent food,” Han announced as they trooped through.

“Okay,” Leia called after them. “And bring beer. I’m going to need it since I am _unpacking by myself!”_

“We had better get her something nice,” Han whispered. Ben nodded.

 

* * *

 

“Mitaka is leaving,” Phasma said. They were sitting in her tiny studio apartment, drinking wine and eating take-out.

“What?” Kylo asked, looking up from his food. He felt a rippling numbness spreading through him. Dread had been building up in his stomach ever since he’d left Hux to go meet Phasma. She was distant, not laughing or talking with him like usual. She hadn’t asked about his day and he hadn’t volunteered any information. It had been a long, awkward drive back to her place.

“He got a job in California. Near L.A.” She shrugged, gulping at her wine.

“Oh,” Kylo replied. Somehow, that’s not what he had been expecting. Mitaka had always been there. He was part of the team. He wouldn’t just leave. Kylo blinked. He set his food aside, no longer hungry, and picked up his wine instead, following Phasma’s example and chugging it. “When’s he leaving?”

“Next week.” They sat staring at nothing for several minutes. The tension was building in the small room rather than dissipating after Phasma’s announcement. She wasn’t done. There was something else. “He says there’s a job for me there, if I want it.”

Kylo felt gutted. Phasma had been his whole world since he was fifteen. He knew he was holding her back. He had known it for years, known he had to let her go. But until now, she had never acted like she wanted anything else. Kylo could tell she wanted _this,_ though. That she was tired of the performing life, tired of her tiny apartment, tired of working so much for so little. “You should do it,” he whispered. It was the bravest thing he’d ever said.

Phasma gave him a withering look. “I can’t _go,”_ she said, huffing an angry breath at him.

“Why not?” He knew why.

Phasma avoided his eyes. “I’m going to bed,” she said, standing up to rinse out her glass. Kylo listened to her brushing her teeth in the bathroom, wondering what he ought to say. If he really loved her, he would return the kindness she’d always shown him. He’d make her see that she could go. That he didn’t need her. Even though he did. Even though they both knew it.

She came back in pajama pants and a tank-top and crawled into bed. Heaving a defeated sigh, she patted the spot next to her. Kylo timidly sat down on the edge, looking down at his best friend. “This is a good opportunity for you,” he started. Phasma covered her face with her hands.

“Kylo, don’t.”

“No, really. You should do it. I’ll be fine. I’ll-”

Phasma raised her hands and Kylo could see that she was starting to cry. Phasma never cried.

“I can’t leave you,” she whispered, her voice sounding small and uncertain. Nothing like the woman he knew so well. Without thinking, he bent down and hugged her, holding her tight.

“If you stay, nothing will ever change for you,” Kylo said softly into her wild hair. “You don’t want this life. It was fine at first, but it’s not what you want anymore, Phas.” He pulled back and looked into her bright eyes. “I can’t hold you back. I don’t want to. It would be a burden for both of us, you know? I’ll feel guilty about you staying, and you’ll feel guilty about wishing you could leave…” He swiped at his own eyes angrily. He’d cried more this week than he had in the last eleven years. “You should go. I want you to try. Please.”

Phasma stroked through his hair, frowning hard and trying to keep back her tears. “Kylo, I think I did the wrong thing.” He cocked his head at her, taking her hand in his. “I-,” she took in a deep breath. “Your mom came looking for you, a few months after you ran away. I told her you weren’t ready to face a normal life. That you would end up hiding. That at least at the faires you could walk around and perform.” She broke off in a sob. “I thought you would make friends, make connections, you know? But you didn’t. You stayed separate from everyone, like you didn’t deserve to be cared about. You barely let _me_ take care of you, and… and I think maybe I should have let her take you.”

He leaned forward and held her, trying to process what she had just said and not wanting her to see his face while his thoughts raced. At last he pulled back and looked down at her worried face. “No, you were right,” he said.

“But,” Phasma said, her face spasming again against a deep pain he had never realized she was carrying for the both of them. “She never came back. I should have let her talk to you. I was so young and stupid. I thought that I knew what I was talking about. But she wanted to take you home. You could have gone home.”

“No,” Kylo answered, numb and sad. “I wouldn’t have gone.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “I didn’t deserve to.”

Phasma’s face crumpled and she pulled him to her again and cried her heart out for both of them.

 

* * *

 

She kept him with her on Monday, calling in sick so that they could eat junk food and binge watch the Marvel stuff he’d missed out on. They argued about characters and plot and took turns getting up to retrieve more snacks and drinks. Kylo found himself laughing easier, his mind able to focus on what was going on around him, thinking of more than just the next performance, the next stunt.

“Rebecca is going to be so jealous,” Kylo teased her.

She looked guilty all of a sudden. “I may have told her already.”

Kylo smacked her arm. “You told an Elf before you told me? Traitor!”

“I know. Sorry. I just needed to tell someone, and we were at the wing place, and I had a couple shots, and well. I spilled the whole story.”

Kylo decided to be gracious about it, though it still stung a little. “I get it. At least I was the second person you told, right?” She laughed and nodded. “Good,” Kylo said, and got up to get more chips and salsa.

Phasma drove him back to camp Tuesday morning before she headed to work. It was during the car ride that she finally tilted a platinum eyebrow at him. “Hux,” she said.

“Hux,” Kylo sighed.

“So, you guys…”

“Yeah.”

“And it was… okay?”

“Oh god, yeah.”

She snorted. “Knew it,” she said.

 

* * *

 

Kylo was standing next to Phasma’s tent, trying to imagine what he would do if she decided to go. The campsite would feel so empty, like it did every time he was at a faire without her. This time, though, she wouldn’t be coming back. There would be no Thursday night bargain wine party, Phasma complaining about her week and trying to drag him around to make friends.

All this time he had no idea that she’d been carrying so much regret and worry. He reached out and tugged on one of the ropes holding on the rain canopy over her tent. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d stolen part of her life from her. He’d never meant to. He’d never realized. He had been too numb, too stuck, frozen in time, unheeding.

“Penny for your thoughts.” Hux stepped up next to him, dressed simply in jeans and a sweater, still managing to look elegant. He gave Kylo a small smile, looking a bit nervous as he stood there trying to be casual. Kylo could kiss him. He didn’t.

“I’m worried about Phasma,” he said instead. “Mitaka’s leaving.”

“Oh,” Hux said. “I’m sorry to hear that. I could tell that there were, um, _feelings_ there.”

Kylo wrinkled his brows at him. What was Hux talking about?

“Did she turn him down?” Hux asked.

“What?”

“Oh, I just assumed he’s leaving because he asked her out and she turned him down,” Hux trailed off at the look on Kylo’s face. Kylo scanned his memories of Mitaka and Phasma together. Oh god, he was such an idiot.

“Fuck,” Kylo said simply. He pulled out his phone.

 _You love Mitaka, you asshole._ He wrote. _Get your ass to California and stop using me as an excuse._

Okay, so he could have been more delicate about it, but this sort of thing was always easier for them through text.

“That explains a lot,” Kylo said, finally looking back up at Hux.

“You didn’t know?” Hux’s green eyes went large with surprise. “I was worried he might like _you,_ but then I saw the three of you together and realized he had feelings for Phasma, god knows why…”

Kylo started laughing. “Wait. You were jealous? Of Mitaka?”

Hux blushed. “I wouldn’t say jealous so much as _concerned,”_ he answered with dignity. Kylo just laughed louder. Hux got a dreamy smile on his face. “I like your laugh,” he said, reaching out for his hand. Kylo settled and gazed at the redhead, besotted. “Got any plans today?” Hux asked.

“None.”

“Want to walk around and kill time with me?”

“Sure.”

Kylo ended up showing Hux the practice field where he usually ran through his routines. Rey was there with Finalizer, yelling at him to pick up his feet. Hux chuckled at the horse’s lumbering gait. “He’s worthless, but he’s my favorite,” Kylo admitted. “He has a lot of personality.”

“I can see that,” Hux mused, tugging on the hem of Kylo’s hoodie and playing with the zipper. “Ever think of doing one of the jousts? You’d be freaking terrifying with a lance.”

“Thanks. I think.” Kylo got distracted by Hux’s bright hair in the sunlight. He leaned in to get the clean smell of him into his lungs. “Um, yeah,” he said, remembering Hux’s question. “I used to threaten Phasma. Said I would leave her to become a jouster. But I never seriously considered it.”

“Did you ever want to be anything other than a swordsman?” Hux asked, weaving their fingers together as the walked aimlessly down one of the wooded trails, headed in the general direction of the Elf camp.

Kylo felt a slight pain in his chest at remembering. “I wanted to be a security driver, like my dad,” he answered. “He was sort of training me to be part of the business. But. Um. Other than that or an astronaut, I hadn’t considered a lot of career options before ending up here.”

Hux nodded, considering. “My dad wanted me to be an actor,” Hux said. “And I am. I have to fight to maintain my own identity, to keep it _mine,_ you know? Maybe that’s why I go to such crazy lengths for the craft. I want to be different from him. I don’t want to be ‘that British actor’s son,’ I want to be something unique.”

“Is that why you bought the theater?”

“Yes. I want to build my own brand. Do my own version of performance. I’m willing to put the time into the troupe, to really invest in it. I mean, I have the funds. It would be a shame to just spend it all on a house or something, when I can run a theater.”

Kylo smiled at him. “I envy you.”

“What?” Hux seemed to come back from wherever he had been. “Why?”

“You know what you want,” Kylo answered, looking away from Hux out into the woods, scanning the trees as they walked. “You’re brave.”

There was a pause in the conversation after that, each man lost in their own thoughts as they walked quickly on their long legs, side-by-side. Soon they were back at the Elven camp, being greeted by the troupe. Everyone seemed happy and there was a mood of celebration. Kylo quirked an eyebrow at Hux over the chatter of voices. Hux rolled his eyes. “They’re just excited because this weekend is their last one,” he said, shaking his head. “They can’t wait to go back to London.”

Kylo froze. How could it be the last weekend already? He’d completely lost track. He looked at the slender creature beside him as Hux crossed his arms over his thin chest. He seemed more ethereal than ever to Kylo in that moment, knowing that he would soon vanish from his life.

“I didn’t realize that it was the last one already,” Kylo managed, his voice rough. Hux looked over at him and stiffened at the look on his face.

“Kylo, we need to talk,” Hux started, but Kylo was already pulling away, looking for the trail that would lead him back to his campsite. He couldn’t bare Hux telling him that he was leaving too. Not right now. Not after Phasma. He needed space. Some time to decompress. This couldn’t happen to him all at once. He'd thought he had more time…

“Right,” Kylo answered distantly, beginning to back up and put distance between them. “Sure. I just gotta… We’ll talk later, okay?” Then he was escaping, heading back to his desolate campsite alone, his fingers still buzzing with the afterglow of Hux’s grip.

 

* * *

 

He thought about texting Phasma and begging her to stay. He hadn’t gotten any sleep the night before, even after running trails in the moonlight for hours on end. His mind refused to shut off. He lied to himself, yelled at himself, pleaded with himself, but still he had lain awake, lonely and afraid.

He knew he was looking at his future- the long nights of sleepless regret, of panic and guilt. There would never be anything to look forward to again, nothing waiting to reward his long hours of trying to remain patient and human. No one would be showing up with grocery bags twined around their forearms, smiling at him, pulling him out of himself. The future was performance after soulless performance, weekly trips to the laundromat and the store. He would need to somehow find a doctor to prescribe him medication for the anxiety attacks. If he could afford it. How long would he be able to stand that life? How long until he started forgetting to eat, forgetting to get up in the mornings, forgetting to perform or shower or breathe?

He could look for his mother. He ought to anyway. In his mind, she was still living in the same house. When he thought of her (and he tried not to for the sake of his sanity), she was in the kitchen, or in the garden, or rushing about in a flurry to get ready for something at work. The house always looked the same, unchanged by the passage of time. His room was there, waiting for him, fresh sheets on the bed, his mom giving him a look over the mess of papers and model kits strewn on his desk.

For the first time in eleven years, Kylo let himself think that everything would be different. His mother would be older. She would look smaller. He had grown several inches after joining Phasma. None of his clothes would fit him. His mom had probably donated all of them when she accepted he was never coming back. She had probably moved. Maybe she remarried. He might have step-brothers and sisters he had never met.

Maybe she was dead.

Kylo buried his face in the pillow and tried to stop the thoughts. Somehow, between the blinding light that was Hux and the gut wrenching loss that was Phasma leaving, time had started again. His perfectly preserved amber cage had shattered, and he once again had to acknowledge that he was alive, that he existed. He was having to face, all at once, that he had emotions. Strong, violent, passionate emotions that demanded things of him.

What was he going to do? Oh god, he had nothing, not even a GED. No money, no family, no friends besides Phasma. He didn’t have a driver’s license. The only thing he knew how to do was fight. In a costume. For spare change. He was just another high school dropout, a homeless man who would eventually age out of his one trick.

Then what? Kylo screwed his eyes shut. _Then what, kid?_ The memory of his dad’s voice mocked him, somehow twisted up with Snoke’s voice, combined and sarcastic in his mind. _Then what, Benny? You have nothing. You lost your future, your past, your home._

Aching and trembling, Kylo managed to swallow one of his pills. Eventually it was enough to help him drift off to sleep just before dawn, the specter of Han’s disappointed face looming in his mind.

 

* * *

 

Kylo woke up feeling oddly content. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that he shouldn’t be this comfortable, that last night had been bad. But there was a slight weight draped over his leg and another pressing on his arm. It felt reassuring somehow. Good. Safe. Plus, something smelled nice. Clean. A little like essential oils.

He cracked his eyes open cautiously, worried that this feeling of well being would be fleeting. Hux was sprawled out next to him, taking up very little room on the sleeping bag. One of his long legs was tossed over Kylo’s and his slim arm was nestled on top of his bicep. He was holding his iPad over his face, reading something that looked like a script, his head nestled on the pillow next to Kylo’s.

When Hux realized he was awake, he nuzzled closer with a contented sigh and closed the script, bringing up the picture gallery instead. He scrolled to one and opened it, tilting the screen so that Kylo could see. It was a picture of an old theater, falling apart and in need of repair. Hux swiped to the next one and, like magic, the facade had been transformed. The brickwork looked solid, the garden replanted, the door painted carefully with gold letters.

“Your theater?” Kylo asked, his voice hoarse with sleep. Hux nodded. He brought up another photo, this time of the interior.

“The outside is finished, but we still have some work on the inside,” Hux said, showing Kylo several more pictures. “These are the latest ones from my contractor. They show the work in progress. These are the new seats,” he said pointing to the plush chairs in red velvet, “and here’s the stage curtain.”

Kylo nodded, his temple just brushing Hux’s soft hair. “It’s a beautiful theater, Hux,” he said, meaning it. The building was obviously ancient. He wondered what other men and women had owned it over the years, why it had been allowed to fall apart so disgracefully. “It must have a lot of history.”

“It does,” he agreed, showing Kylo several more photos of the stage and the back rooms. He paused for a moment then, looking over at Kylo almost shyly, before opening a different set of pictures. These were of an apartment. It was on the small side, but beautifully furnished. To Kylo, who’d lived in a run-down tent for eleven years, it looked like a palace. Hux swiped to several different shots, each showing an angle of the flat, a few of them showing before and after photos of the same room. Finally, he pulled up a picture of a wall covered floor-to-ceiling in art. Kylo could make out the two sketches that looked like him, as well as several others he recognized from looking at the photos on Sunday.

He was so caught up looking at the photo, he didn’t realize Hux had shifted until he was kissing Kylo’s cheek, his fingers wandering over to the other, scarred one, caressing gently. “Would you like to see them in person?” Hux asked, trailing his fingers through the tangled mess of Kylo’s hair and watching his face for his reaction.

Kylo swallowed hard. He looked from Hux’s face, to the photo, and back again, not sure he’d heard correctly. Hux gave him a soft smile and leaned in to kiss his face again, this time his lips brushed lightly over the scar above his eyebrow. Kylo’s heart was hammering.

“I want you to come home with me, Kylo,” Hux said gently.

Kylo started shaking his head before he could even find his voice to reply. Hux was running his hands over him, trying to soothe him. Kylo tried to pull away in the tiny space but couldn't get very far.

“You don’t want me, Hux,” he managed to whisper.

“Of course I do,” Hux said. “I’ve known it from the moment I saw you-”

“No,” Kylo interrupted. It felt like something in him was breaking apart. It was so deep that he didn’t even have the tears for it. Just a shaky voice, echoing in his ears. “You don’t know what I’ve done, what I am. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve a home.” He brought his hands up to cover his face, as though he could hide from his own admission, keep it at bay a little bit longer.

Hux was rubbing one hand softly back and forth over Kylo’s chest. He sighed quietly before he spoke. “I know what happened with your father, Kylo,” he admitted. “I asked Phasma, early on, when I told her I was interested. Besides threatening my life in several fascinating and inventive ways, she told me how you got the scars. She said you might take years getting around to telling me and that it was just easier for her to get it out of the way.” He paused, and Kylo could feel his slim hand brushing over his hair again. It felt so good. He didn’t deserve to feel that good. “Don’t be mad at her. I’m glad she told me. It’s helped me to- to understand, just a bit, I think.”

Shame warred with relief in Kylo’s gut. Hux knew. But Hux was also still here. Maybe he just didn’t understand. “I’m the reason my father was murdered,” Kylo said, hands still hiding his face from Hux. “I should have died instead. They should have killed me instead. I wish they had.” Where were these confessions coming from? He hadn’t allowed himself to think these things in years, let alone say them out loud to someone else.

Hux seemed to sense the enormity of what was happening to Kylo, of what he was admitting to both Hux and to himself. He wedged an arm behind Kylo’s neck and pulled on his shoulder with his other hand until Kylo rolled towards him and they lay on their sides, facing one another. Hux held him and kissed his forehead and anywhere else he could reach around Kylo’s fingers.

After a long moment of allowing Kylo to process the enormity of what he’d just said, Hux held him tight and began murmuring to him. “You think you’re somehow unworthy of love, of a life outside of this one, but I don’t see it like that.” His lips brushed Kylo’s hair, warm and reassuring. “I’m not some perfect guardian angel, Kylo. I’m not swooping in to save you and make your life easy. You need to know how difficult I really am to put up with on a day to day basis.”

Despite himself, Kylo smiled behind his hands. He began to lower them slowly, looking at Hux’s amused face. “You're _not_ perfect?” Kylo teased. “Are you sure about that?”

Hux snorted. “Oh, completely, irrevocably sure, I’m afraid,” he answered, rolling his eyes and kissing Kylo’s nose, making him huff. “Don’t let the accent fool you. I’m not charming in the least. I’m a control freak, as I’m sure you’ve noticed by now. I always think I’m right. I get jealous and possessive. I obsess over everything. I don’t get along with my parents, and doing anything with them will be a nightmare. I have a ton of hangups about what I wear and how I look. And- and my relationship with food is complicated.” He sighed deeply. “That’s just the first page of the list. In fact, you should probably turn me down. Although, I think I’d probably die if you did-”

Kylo kissed him. Just a soft thing, warm and happy. “I sort of, you know. Like you. The way you are,” he said, letting his head fall back to the pillow as he gazed in awe at Hux.

“I sort of like you too,” Hux said, pretending to think about it. “The way you are.”

“I don’t have a high school diploma.”

“I don’t care. You can probably test out of most subjects and get into a community college. Or we can get you a GED or diploma equivalent, if you want.”

“I don’t have a driver’s licence.”

“Won’t need one in London,” Hux said, waving his hand. “And if you want one, we’ll arrange it. Not an issue.”

“I haven’t been to a dentist since I was fifteen. Or a doctor. I need medication for my panic attacks. I need a passport. My birth certificate and social security card are still with my mom, and… I don’t even know if she’s alive.”

“Kylo,” Hux interrupted. “You’re not going to talk me out of wanting you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Are you real?” Kylo asked.

“Oh, I’m real,” Hux laughed. “Too real, sometimes. You’ll probably regret it, but… will you please give this a go with me? You can always come back to this life if you want. But please, I’m begging you, give me a chance?”

“I still can’t believe you want me,” Kylo said, mesmerized by the man in his arms.

“I want you. So much.” Hux stroked his fingers over the puckered ridges of Kylo’s right cheek. “I loved your face even before I met you,” he laughed. “I’d say it’s fate or something, but then I’d have to admit how obsessed I am, and scare you away-”

Kylo rolled him underneath his body, sheltering the delicate frame with his larger, rougher one. “Yes,” he said, leaning down and kissing the side of Hux’s throat. “I want to try. God, please let me try to deserve you.”

“Same,” Hux murmured, pulling him in tight. “Same.”

 

* * *

 

Phasma ended up subletting her apartment to Kylo for the remaining two months of her lease. Before she left for California, they had a campsite party to say farewell to the faire life, at least for now. Neither one of them knew if they would give up sword fighting at the festivals for good. Phasma still wanted to teach in her spare time, so she at least would be keeping up her skill set.

Kylo had no idea what he was going to do for a career. He could train students, like Phasma did, though his only plans in that direction were to teach the troupe proper fighting skills that they could use in their performances. Hux kept tossing around the idea of Kylo becoming the choreographer for the theater when they talked every night over Skype, Hux in London and Kylo still in the States. Kylo smiled and nodded at him without committing.

Before he could get his passport, he needed to contact his mother and get all the legal documents that is fifteen-year-old self hadn’t even thought of during his desperate flight away from home. Her voice on the phone when she actually answered the number he had found for her felt like a knife through his heart. He choked out a quavering, “Mom?” and then she was crying too and it was several minutes before they were able to have anything like a conversation.

That night on Skype, Kylo got emotional telling Hux about the call. “She lives in Oregon now,” he said. “She’s going to ship the documents to me, and then I can apply for my passport.”

“Do you want to see her?” Hux asked softly.

“I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“No problem,” Hux said. “There’s time. No need to rush.”

“It was so weird hearing my real name again,” Kylo said, shaking his head.

“Your real name?”

“Ben. It’s- I’m Ben.”

There was a pause. “Ben. I like it.” Hux smiled at him on the screen.

“So, it shouldn’t be too much longer,” Kylo said. “The hard part’s over with.”

“You mean the last eleven years?” Hux asked.

Kylo snorted. “Something like that.”

“I can’t wait for you to come home, love.”

Something settled into place in his chest. “Me either,” Kylo said.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to each and every one of you who have read, left kudos, and/or written comments. You make writing and posting my stories a positively delightful experience! My love to you.
> 
> My Tumblr is MothDustMouth. I'm always interested in prompts and ideas. Come chat.
> 
> (Updated Spotify soundtrack [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/mothdustmouth/playlist/0VE7JmEeoYkHBUai4b5CAl). Pinterest board [here](https://www.pinterest.com/mothdustmouth/incense-and-cinnamon/).)


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